


The Devil's Game

by Hamliet



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Forgiveness, Guardians of the Galaxy - Freeform, Guilt, Infinity Gauntlet, Nightmares, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamliet/pseuds/Hamliet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ridden with guilt, driven by their internal demons, the once-mighty Avengers move around Thanos's chessboard as pawns. Post-CACW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Unlike my previous works, this story won't be updated every day (too many writing commitments right now-I need to finish an original work, and I'm also working on more Star Wars stories), but there will be an update at least once a week.

They're surrounding her.

Natasha's pulse hammers in her throat even as she leans back in her chair and signals the waiter. The blonde on her left, in a pink dress. The man in a sweatshirt just outside. They're coming for her.

Are they stupid enough to try and take her in a public place? Or will they trail her?

"What else can I get for you, miss?" asks the waiter.

"The check, please," Natasha requests. Not the dessert menu like she had been planning. Damn government.

_T'Challa told them what you did. They're coming for you._

Natasha sips her wine, her red hair carefully concealed under a black wig. Not that it matters. They found her anyway, just as she was trying to blend in for a few months, lay low until she could find out where Steve and the rest of the Avengers went.

She shouldn't have come to Berlin.

But she needed to speak to Sharon, the only person she feels like she can trust, at least to some extent. But Sharon insisted they didn't have any knowledge of where Steve went, after he broke Wanda, Clint, Sam, and Scott out of prison.

 _It's your fault too, and you know it!_ Laura had shouted when Natasha showed up at their farm.

"Here you go. Take your time," the waiter tells her.

 _I don't have any time to take_. Natasha draws some cash out of her purse and places it on the table. She feels her gun safely in her waistband, hidden by her jacket, and strides out of the restaurant.

The man in the sweatshirt follows her. The blonde's probably radioing someone. Natasha picks up her pace but doesn't glance over her shoulder.

 _There_. A crowd of people waiting outside a theater. Natasha delves into it, ducking low. They're still following her. She can feel their eyes tracking her.

And then footsteps pound, and people gasp.

 _Guess they're tired of waiting_.

Natasha whirls around, kicking Sweatshirt Man square in the chest and sending him flying across the street. Someone else grabs her hair, twisting and yanking, but her wig just pops off and Natasha's free to run.

The gasps escalate to screams as Natasha hurtles through the streets. She can't fire at them and they can't fire at her, not with all the people around. That's one thing about the government. They're limited in ways the people Natasha's used to fighting are not.

A black SUV swerves to block the road, and Natasha dives to the left, punching through the window of a blue sedan. She reaches to unlock it as an arm wraps around her chest.

Natasha kicks and bucks, throwing the man to the ground and lunging for the car.

A shot rings out, and the screams meld into hysteria.

Natasha gapes at the man lying on the ground, still writhing. They _shot_ at her.

 _New plan_.

"Who are you?" she demands, grabbing the man by his shoulders and shoving him into the car as well.

"FBI," he wheezes.

"Liar." Natasha revs up the engine and speeds directly at the SUV. They're still shooting. _Stop it!_ "There are innocent people getting hurt!" she yells.

"They wouldn't be if you'd just surrender!" the man retorts, reaching for her throat. Her stingers send him back, and sirens shriek instead of people.

 _Dammit_. Natasha isn't sure how far she's going to get. But she sure as hell doesn't want to wind up in that prison.

She's spent too much of her life trapped already.

The man starts to stir in the backseat again. Natasha slows the car down.

He reaches for her and Natasha opens the door. "You get to drive now."

She hits the pavement with her knee, and the pain shooting through her terrifies her more than the shots coming at her. _Keep running. Keep going. Don't stop._

She whirls down an alleyway, a crash echoing in her mind. _Oh, shit._

A green van advertising some kind of flowers starts on her left, and the doors fly open. Natasha throws her fist, but it doesn't connect with a face.

"Whoa there," Sam says with a grin.

"You!" Natasha gasps.

"Need a lift?" Steve's voice filters out.

"Let's get out of here." Natasha leaps inside the van, slamming the door shut. "How in the hell—"

"Long story," Steve says. Natasha glances up to see an African woman driving.

"The short version is that T'Challa's in town, and Sharon told him you might need some help," Sam supplies.

Natasha snorts and leans back. Her knee throbs. The sirens start to die away, but the quiet is worse.

_We need to be put in check._

She agreed, and then she broke it, and now probably, more people are dead.

"You okay?" Steve asks.

"Is that where you have everyone?" Natasha asks, ignoring the question. "Wanda, Clint, the Ant-Man, Bucky? Wakanda?"

"Yup," Sam affirms.

Natasha grimaces as she rubs her knee.

"T'Challa's working on some things," Sam adds. "You're welcome to come—"

"You're not okay." Steve grabs her knee and Natasha sucks in her breath.

"Is Wakanda able to fix busted knees?" she jokes.

"Yes," the driver affirms.

"Then let's go."

* * *

The halls of Asgard echo with whispers as Thor storms through. Servants duck down gold-plated hallways, avoiding their prince, who clutches his hammer as if he'd like to throw it through a few of them.

Which, a few years ago, he might have. And he does want to bash Mjolnir against a few skulls. Just not any Asgardians'.

Thor bursts into his room and out onto the balcony, clutching the rail so tightly he almost wrenches it off.

In moments like these, when his blood boils hot and energy slashes through him, Thor wonders whether he's really changed. His father, who bid him farewell years ago with the words Thor replayed so many nights when he lay awake next to Jane, has barely seen him since he arrived back at Asgard. And if what Heimdall says is true—

"Thor?"

Sif's voice cuts through his raging thoughts.

"Sif." Thor turns around. "I am afraid I'm not good company right now."

"Is it your Midgardian woman? Jane?" Sif adds hastily when she sees Thor's eyes narrow.

"No. Jane is... fine." If that's how Thor wants to think of Jane apparently telling Darcy she never wants to see him again. Not even a visit from his friends had convinced her to soften her heart for him, not after he left without a goodbye _again_.

"Well, you can tell me, or I can beat it out of you," Sif says, cocking her head, a little smile playing with her lips.

With the acidic sweetness of Jane lingering in his mind, Thor's in no mood for teasing. "My friends down there."

"The Avengers? That is what you call yourselves, isn't it?" Sif almost laughs.

"Yes. Or it was." How could things be falling apart? Down there, up here? He needs to focus on Asgard, on that vision that Heimdall still insists he knows nothing about- _we are all dead because of you_.

It seems as if, on earth, even without his presence, they're all dead, and for the first time, Thor's desperately afraid of losing everything. Because no matter how many realms he's visited—excluding Jotenheim, where his brief arrival with Sif reassured him that the Jotuns had most certainly not forgotten his excursion years earlier and led to their escape after only a few minutes in the frozen wasteland—he can't seem to find any clues as to what that vision meant.

He's grasping at straws, and Odin's shunned every opportunity to talk to him, to take him seriously, and Thor doesn't understand why.

Jane would know. Jane's smart.

But she hates him now.

"Was?" Sif presses, voice soft now as she approaches.

Thor stares out at the golden buildings and the craggy cliffs below, at the people that look like ants milling about. _For how much longer?_ "They've broken apart."

"A war?" Sif questions.

"No, a fight-an argument." _Petty humans._ Except, they aren't petty at all. And as annoyed as Thor is at Rogers, he understands.

He would have done the same for Loki. He did break Loki out of prison, and it got him killed.

At least he knew his brother loved him, for the first time in years, and at least apologies poured from Loki's lips before he passed into Valhalla. Thor has that assurance.

"I don't understand."

"They had a fight, and they're scattered now. Several of them were imprisoned—they escaped—they're now in hiding. Others are working with the government-the people they're hiding from."

 _"Why?"_ Sif wants to know.

"It's complicated," Thor says, dropping Mjolnir onto the floor with a clunk.

"Won't your friends go to their other friends? Like when we came for you, when you were banished?"

Thor shakes his head, thinking of Stark's stubbornness, of the horrific guilt his friend must feel for Ultron. "I don't believe so."

"We've fought—"

"Yes, but we have millennia to live and centuries to forgive. Humans don't have that." Would that they did.

Or would that they appreciated their finite lives more.

 _Maybe we should be appreciating it,_ Thor realizes.

_We are all dead..._

_Because of me,_ Thor finishes. _What have I done?_

"Maybe if you return, they'll listen," Sif says softly. Her words jar Thor, and he turns to face her. She offers him a smile, her umber hair shimmering in the sun.

"You don't know Stark," Thor says with a snort. Nothing can shake Stark except for Stark himself. "Or Rogers. Neither of them are men of compromise."

"Well, neither were you. You figured it out."

"Not before there was a terrible cost," Thor points out, thinking of Loki screaming.

_I never wanted the throne! I only ever wanted to be your equal!_

_He told you about my true parentage, did he not?_

_I didn't do it for him._

He can't fail the rest of Asgard like he failed Loki. His friends matter, but so do the people he is supposed to protect and guard.

_When I'm king, I'll hunt them down and slay them all._

"Are you thinking of your vision again?" Sif asks softly.

"You know me well, Sif." A child laughs below. Thor can't find the child on the streets, but the laughter echoes.

"Talk to the Allfather again. I'm sure he can advise you," Sif says. "Because the Warriors Three and I—we're at a loss. We don't know how else to help you, Thor."

Thor winces. "I know. You've done enough."

Except he can't go to the Allfather. For some reason, Odin seems to avoid him when he comes near him, only dealing with him when he has to. As if he's hiding. As if he's ashamed—but what of? Mother's death? Loki's death?

When Thor first arrived back, Odin seemed less than pleased. His eyebrows tightened over his golden eye, and he told Thor he was free to investigate his "fanciful vision, brought on by a mere mortal," but that he didn't see any point to it.

"Yes," Thor says, peeling himself away from the balcony. "I will."

"The Allfather is busy," one of the Einharjar informs him when he approaches.

"Well, tell him I want to see him," Thor insists, everything—what Heimdall told him, his friends on earth, the broken Avengers, the child's laugh—building and twisting within him.

"I said, he is—"

"I'm his _son!"_ Thor bellows. The guards flinch. "And I don't care if he thinks it's not worth pursuing because the vision came from a mortal. She's not just any mortal. She's magic! And I've seen far more than you-yes, than even you, Father!" he hollers. "Mortals aren't to be underestimated! They're far more powerful and capable than you know! And mark my words, danger is coming!"

The Einharjar titter among themselves.

 _They think I'm crazy,_ Thor realizes, shock flowing through him. _How dare they?_

The door opens, and Odin stands before him, Gungnir clutched in his fist. "What is the meaning of this?" he demands.

"You might think me mad," Thor says through gritted teeth. "But you must—you're wiser than any being in all of the nine realms. I need your wisdom, Father. _Please."_

Odin cocks his head, like Loki used to. Thor's heart aches. All along, was Loki copyng their father? He always was more observant than Thor.

"I never thought I'd hear the mighty Thor pleading," Odin says.

"I know it;s coming, whatever it is," Thor says, trying to keep his voice steady. "What else do they have to take from us? What else are we willing to risk? We've lost Mother. We've lost Loki. We can't allow this. We can't let them down. I know you feel like you let Mother down and I let Loki down, but—"

"Silence," Odin says, slamming Gungnir down on the floor. "If you want to learn, I suggest you read the history books."

"I have—"

"Start there. Come to me when you have something concrete—and if you do, Thor Odinson, then I will listen." Odin casts him a long look that pierces Thor in a way he can't understand. _Who are you?_

* * *

He's going to _know_ soon.

Loki paces his chambers. How could the Einharjar not have figured it out yet? He's good, but surely with Thor's presence, they can tell he's no good at this. Loki knows nothing about being a _son_ , much less being a father.

Soon, Thor will find out. Thanos is coming, and nothing can stop it. No bargain Loki can strike, under the guise of Odin, will stall the mad Titan. And if Thor finds out what happened with Thanos, Loki won't be able to stand it.

And now with Thor watching him, there's no way Loki can carry out what needs to be done.

 _You came back to save us, brother. But by coming back, you're destroying us._ Loki snorts. How typical of Thor—well-intentioned, but misguided.

Loki stares at a mirror, peeling back the illusion of an old man's face. He sees his own youthful skin, his black hair, and still an old man's eyes stare at him.

Once Thor does know, he'll give up on Loki forever. And wouldn't that be a relief.

Except it's a relief Loki's not sure he'd survive.

He needs to do what he can. If Thor finds out about his work with Thanos—his work to save them all-maybe there's a chance. Or maybe not.

 _Come at once._ The message burns in Loki's mind. He can't shake it, not ever. That voice. The yelling.

_He will make you wish for something as sweet as pain._

_Not yet,_ Loki thinks, glaring at the mirror. _Not yet._

He has one option left.

_Time to find out if these mortals are as capable as you seem to think, Thor. Let's hope your opinions of your friends isn't muddied by sentiment._

* * *

When nothing explodes into something, he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know who he is, or why someone's talking to him, or who they are, or how.

_Barnes._

"Who?" Bucky asks, his brain sluggish. His thoughts are sticky, as if the neurons firing in his brain don't quite want to work.

_Where am I?_

Oh hell. Wakanda. He's not supposed to be awake—alert— _no!_ Not when his mind's not fixed, when his identity's still dangling in tattered strips.

And this person is no doubt here to glue it back together into the Winter Soldier.

"You needn't worry," says the voice, droll and calm. "I have a mission for you."

"I don't—"

The person steps closer, and from his glass case, Bucky recognizes the face he saw on the news. The face Steve helped defeat.

" _You."_

"Nice to meet you too.," Loki says, folding his arms and glancing around him. "Your friends are preoccupied rescuing the spider woman in a city far from here. And the others are asleep."

"They're not my friends."

Loki regards him. "And you're not a liar."

"Who told you about me?" Bucky demands.

Loki paces back and forth, worrying his lip between his teeth. "You're afraid I want to use you. Just like everyone's used you. For your superhuman abilities."

"There's nothing I can do that you can't," Bucky points out. "You're an—"

"God, Asgardian—well, I'm not the latter, and according to my father, I'm really not the former either. And he's not my father."

"You aren't making any sense."

"Not to your mind." Loki holds up his hand. "And your mind is what you want, isn't it? I saw you. When I was back… you want to be yourself again. You want to be Bucky Barnes, the kid from Brooklyn, the guy whose best friend is Steve Rogers and you know he can count on you just as you can count on him. But he can't count on you right now."

Bucky clenches his fists. "Why are you here?"

"I want you to go on a mission for me." Loki meets his eyes, presses his face close to the case.

"You said it yourself," Bucky says. "There's nothing I can do that you can't also do."

"Well, neither of us can be in two places at once," Loki observes. "And I have… duties." His gaze lowers before rising again. "And I have something that I need you to do."

"Get your brother to—"

"Thor thinks I'm dead," Loki cuts in. "And I have my reasons. Gungnir is mine."

"What the hell is—"

"If you go, if you do exactly as I ask and don't breathe a word to anyone about this, I will give you your mind back. I can cure you."

Bucky flexes his wrists. "Why would I believe you?"

"Because I know what you're going through more than anyone else does. It's like they've twisted you, they've made you believe you want to do something when you really wouldn't, but you do, and that guilt is going to tear at you forever. And in your case, the uncertainty of when you'll revert. Words, isn't it?" The slickness in Loki's tone doesn't cover something Bucky sees flickering over his face, the shadows crossing his eyes.

"There's a threat coming that's bigger than any of you Midgardians can anticipate, and they'll need you."

Bucky's chest aches. "That's not a—"

"It's good enough." Loki glances over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a few days time."

"You aren't putting me back to sleep?"

Loki's eyebrows rise. "You aren't accepting my offer?"

Bucky swallows. He still can't think clearly.

"There's a balcony down the hallway if you take two lefts," Loki tells him. "Two nights. Have fun pretending to be asleep." And he vanishes into the shadows.

He can't trust the Asgardian. Bucky may not know much, but he knows that. The last time he placed himself at the whims of the devil, the devil made him dance, and kill.

But if there's a chance to exorcise these demons…

Does he even have a choice?

Bucky closes his eyes, wondering what real sleep would feel like, sleep without nightmares and every single face he remembers because he has to, because blocking them out would make him more of a monster, would erase any threads of humanity still laced inside him. He wonders what real choices would feel like, because it's been almost eighty years.

He's not sure which option squeezes the life out of him more: that he remembers, or that he doesn't.


	2. Chapter 2

"She got away?" Tony asks as he paces back and forth. Rhodey's spoon clanks against his cereal bowl, and Vision rises from across the table.

"No, of course not!" Tony snaps. "What are you going to—no, I don't need you to search my tower, 'cause it's my tower and you should trust me… well, I don't care. I've been here all frickin' day. Talk to Rhodey… you want to? That's cold… All right, fine." He shoves the phone at Rhodey, who blinks.

"May I inquire who the 'she' was?" Vision requests.

"You _may_." Tony rolls his eyes. "Natasha."

Vision nods.

"Not Wanda. Sorry."

"We still have nothing on her?" Vision inquires.

"I can confirm Tony Stark was here all day," Rhodey says blandly into the phone.

"I wasn't aware—" Tony glances back at Rhodey and lowers his voice. "I wasn't aware that we were trying all that hard to find her."

"We aren't. We cannot let them put her back in that floating prison," Vision says.

"Keep your voice down, would you?" Tony shakes his head. "I have every reason to suspect Wanda's safe and happy."

Vision watches as Rhodey hangs up and plants both hands on the table, struggling to stand.

_How did this happen?_

_I became distracted._

He's not entirely sure what this strange sensation of cold and warm pressure squeezing him at the same time is, but he has every reason to suspect it's guilt, and that can only make him think of Wanda and Lagos.

"Well, looks like Steve got Natasha," Rhodey reports. "Interesting that she vanishes when T'Challa's in town."

"Yes, but was it not T'Challa who informed on her letting Steve and Barnes escape?" Vision points out.

"Yeah, you're still too naïve," Rhodey informs him.

"Doesn't matter." Tony turns and stalks away. "They can be all happy and chipper in Wakanda together. I don't care."

Tony's phone starts to buzz, and Vision checks it. "Miss Potts for you," he calls.

"Let it ring." Tony ducks into the elevator.

Vision looks to Rhodey, who shrugs.

* * *

"X-rays say your knee is fine," a nurse reports to Natasha.

"Well, thanks." She could have told her the same thing. Small injuries never hamper her for long. _Push through the pain. If you let it stop you, you're weak._

And where she grew up, the weak didn't survive.

Pain is irrelevant. Completing the mission—that's all that matters.

The door slides open, and T'Challa strides in. "Miss Romanoff."

"Your highness," Natasha says respectfully, even as suspicions slides through her. What does he want?

"You are wondering why I am helping you," T'Challa states.

"As any reasonable person would be," Natasha returns. _Considering the fact that I stung you when we last met._

"I am done letting vengeance consume me," T'Challa says, glancing around the sterile walls. "I want no part of it. It is not what my father would have wanted."

"And you're now harboring global fugitives… why?" Natasha hobbles to her feet.

T'Challa pauses by the door. "If I have the chance to help mend broken things, I take it."

"You're talking about the Winter Soldier," Natasha realizes as she puts weight on her knee. She grimaces. _Dammit_.

"He is a victim."

"Do you have the record of everything he's done?" Natasha asks with a snort, remembering herself as a child, hearing stories of the famed Winter Soldier and all his exploits, all his kills and the destruction he wreaked in the name of his cause, because it was right and everything was justified by that rightness.

And she wanted to be just like that, even if her role was a bit different.

_You always had a choice, didn't you?_

"I was wondering if you knew anything," T'Challa broaches the subject. "Our goal is to help clean his mind of whatever poison they put in it. You were part of a similar program, and yet you changed—"

"I changed sides because Clint spared my life," Natasha cuts in. Because, for the first time, she was defeated and the pain in her back, her shattered elbow, her thigh, was too much for her to fight against, and for the first time, she realized that she was afraid of dying, afraid of the blackness that awaited her—at best, because she could think of a more than a few religions that would condemn her to a far worse place—afraid of not believing in what she'd been taught enough.

"And that single act of compassion changed your allegiance completely?" T'Challa studies her as intently as her headmistress used to study her, only there's no skepticism or suspicion poking out from his gaze.

"It was a slow process," Natasha says, choosing her words carefully.

"What helped?" T'Challa asks, stepping closer.

 _Oh no_. Natasha retreats, leaning back against the table she'd been lying on. "It's different for Bucky. Far different than it was for me. He had a life before… I didn't. He was in it for far more years than I was. We're not comparable."

"I see. If you remember something that could help, I trust you'll inform us."

"Of course," Natasha says with a smile. Charm's second-nature for her. Like a venomous snake's flashy colors, she has her smile.

* * *

"Natasha!" Wanda leaps to her feet.

"The Spider woman," breathes Scott.

"Good grief," Natasha says as she limps towards them and casts Steve a confused look. "Are there any Avengers his Highness didn't smuggle into Germany?"

"It's just us," Sam confirms, gesturing. "The four—now five—of us. Six, if you count T'Challa, which I guess we do now."

"No Clint?" Natasha questions.

"That's kinda why we're here," says Wanda, glancing at Steve.

"Clint's family's being watched. We need to get them out," Steve explains. "T'Challa's heading to New York tomorrow to meet with Tony. Wanda will disguise herself and help smuggle them on board."

Natasha's eyebrows rise.

"I can do it," Wanda insists. "I won't use my powers unless it gets desperate. And I'm good at disguises."

"I thought I was too," Natasha tells her. Wanda's grin stiffens. "And the ant—giant—man?"

"You still remember that, huh?" Scott asks eagerly.

"Oh God," complains Sam.

"It was a good trick!" Scott protests.

"Yeah, yeah, man, we know."

"Scott wants to see his daughter, and T'Challa's arranging that as well. Just a visit," Steve clarifies. Scott stuffs his hands into his jean pockets.

"Are we all going?' Natasha asks slowly.

"No. Sam and I—and you, if you want to—are heading back to Wakanda."

"Sure." Natasha shrugs as if to say she's got nothing better to do.

"So," Steve asks a few hours later, when they're all on a plane. "What have you been up to since we last met?"

"Staying under the radar," Natasha recites, rubbing her knee.

"What're you looking for under the radar?" Steve questions. "Come on. I know you too well for that."

Natasha brushes her curls back from her face. "I went to see Clint's family for awhile, but Laura was—angry with me. Angry about this whole thing."

Steve winces. _How angry is she with me_?

"I'm guessing Tony found out about Bucky killing his parents," Natasha says.

"Yeah." Steve leans forward.

"He'll never forgive us," Natasha says, running her fingers across the rim of her cup of water. A hollow moan echoes from it. "For not telling him."

Steve winces. "We'll see about that." He doesn't want to believe it.

"I knew for years," Natasha says softly. "Since before I met Tony."

"Wait, what?" demands Sam.

"Tony was my mission when I first met him. And once we were friends—you can't just tell your friend their parents were murdered by an organization you used to work with." The plane's engines hum, and Natasha closes her eyes.

"Tony will—we'll be there for him if he needs us, and vice versa," Steve says. He's never given up on Bucky, not even now, with no answers in sight, and he won't give up on Tony either. There's got to be a way to heal.

Speaking of which… "T'Challa said you don't remember—"

"Anything that can help you? Help him? No." Natasha shakes her head. Her knuckles tighten around the glass. "And I'd prefer not to talk about it."

"But you did know him?" Sam asks.

"I knew _of_ him," Natasha says, opening her eyes. "The Winter Soldier was a myth, the kind of myth that seems real, like a horror story fairy tale, or a religion. We all looked up to him, to what he accomplished. Almost like worship." Natasha sighs. "I had no idea who he was, or even that he had an identity beyond _The Winter Soldier_."

"And your childhood god's now a broken man," Sam says.

"I lost my faith in everything long ago," Natasha says with a wry smile. "From the moment Clint beat me. Maybe before."

"Because otherwise how could he have beaten you?" Steve jokes.

Natasha laughs and shoves at him. "Careful there. He'd better never hear you saying that."

"But is it true?" Sam teases.

"As an American now, I'm going to plead the Fifth." She rubs her knee again.

"Want some medicine for that?" he asks.

"Sure."

Steve rises and heads off to find some. A luxury plane for the Wakandan king, taking a huge risk by flying them around on it—and yet, T'Challa completely has the respect of his people, and not one rumor has slipped out that the Avengers are hiding in Wakanda.

And yet he worries. If they're in hiding, won't some organization or some person see the tatters and the tears and seize the opportunity to wreak havoc?

The Accords really meant nothing in the grand scheme, Steve realizes now. Not when there was a bomb ticking underneath them all along.

_I'm with you to the end of the line._

He means it. He can't give up on his oldest friend, the only one who believed in him when he was just a scrawny kid from Brooklyn. Bucky didn't drop him even when it surely would have been easier too, simply because Steve was weak and a vulnerability. And he won't drop Bucky now.

Anger curls in Steve's stomach when he considers what they did to Bucky. What they did to Natasha, whom Steve is certain knows far, far more than she's telling.

He'll wait.

As Steve shakes two white pills into his hand, he remembers that Natasha knew about Tony's parents for years, and never said anything.

_How long can I wait?_

* * *

"Hey, Bucky," he hears Steve's voice outside the glass. "Got back from Germany today."

 _How often do you come here?_ Bucky wonders. _Every day? Do you think I can hear you?_

Because—unless this is Steve's fist time talking to him while he's 'asleep', and Bucky doubts it very much because this is just like Steve— _always the idealist_ —he hasn't been able to hear his friend. It's been nothing, and as much as Bucky would like to say nothing was blissful after years of torment, he doesn't know that it's any better.

"We still don't have any leads, but I promise you, we'll find something. No matter how long it takes." Steve's voice catches. "I miss you."

_I miss you too._

But it is easier to be asleep in some ways. He doesn't have to look at his friend and know that, instead of the hero Steve always looked up to him as, he became a monster. Someone played with his brain and turned him into the exact opposite of a hero.

And he murdered Iron Man's parents.

And countless other innocent people. The little girl with the blond pigtails, the man who screamed like a child, the elderly woman who smiled at him as he punched and punched…

He doesn't understand how Steve can really forgive that, could still fight for him, haul him off that floor and take him here.

Maybe, if his mind was healed, if it no longer ached to think and if mere words no longer tore through him like fire, incinerating every memory of Bucky Barnes and turning him into a soldier, he would understand. Let it go, even. Maybe.

He should stay.

Except… Loki's offered him a chance. Steve will understand, Bucky knows, and yet he still feels a smidgeon of guilt.

And Loki should be here soon. Any minute. Hopefully the god has the good sense to wait until after Steve leaves.

"See you later," Steve says. As footsteps clunk away, Bucky cracks his eyes open.

A redhaired woman, the one who fought with Stark and then stung T'Challa to help them escape, stands in front of him.

Bucky clamps his eyes shut again, wondering what she saw, if she saw something. He hears her stepping closer.

Nothing. No shouts, no running.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asks.

 _What?_ He recognizes her as Steve's friend. _Natasha_ , Steve called her. The one who packs a good punch.

"I don't blame you," she says softly.

_For what?_

Because whatever it is, Bucky assumes he deserves to be blamed for it.

* * *

Natasha peers out the window. She doesn't feel like sleeping yet, and Clint's too busy to talk.

"In the morning," he told her when they landed. "We'll talk then. I've got to talk to Laura."

She presses her forehead against the glass, watching the dark shapes of lush trees, partially distorted by fog. She should go to her room. Get some rest.

She hears a rustle behind her and whirls around. "Steve?"

Nothing.

Natasha frowns. She's too aware of her surroundings to worry that she's mistaken. She slinks down the hallway and sees the door to Bucky's room ajar.

 _Oh no._ Has someone followed them? Natasha kicks the door open to see the glass chamber opened.

And no Bucky.

_Shit!_

Natasha whirls down the hallway, charging to see if she can catch a glimpse of anyone. Why doesn't she have a phone— _dammit_ , she needs Steve—

There. At the end of the hallway, sliding open through a glass door that leads to a balcony.

_Bucky?_

"Hey!" Natasha shouts.

No one's with him. He stares back at her, eyes wide.

 _Who am I dealing with?_ Natasha wonders. _Bucky, or the Winter Soldier?_

"Bucky, what are you—"

"Stay away," he says, and the sound of his voice—it sends shudders down Natasha's spine.

"Why?" she asks as she continues to advance. "How did you wake up?"

Something's not right, and it's not him, it's her. She's jittery and her mind isn't working in its cool, logical, slippery spider way. She's been compromised.

He turns to leave through the door, and Natasha lunges, grabbing him and swinging herself up onto his shoulders. He bucks, trying to throw her off, and Natasha lands a blow in his face. He drops to the ground and she falls, whacking her head. She shoots out her arm and stings him. He howls and drops.

"I need to go!"

"Go _where?"_ Natasha demands as she rolls on top of him, slamming him back against the metal floor. The humid Wakandan night steals her breath. Her hair sticks to her face. "Steve—"

"Don't you dare call him!"

"What are you—"

He kicks her off, sending her slamming into the wall. Dazed, Natasha hears him saying something about trying to fix things, and then she sees a flash of fire and it engulfs him.

_What the hell?_

"No!" Steve will never get over it if Bucky burns, if he dies. Natasha flings herself at the fire wall.

Except it's not fire.

It's light, and it grabs her by her hair, by her hands and her legs and her waist and drags her—somewhere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Based on my posting schedule so far, I'm going to say that this story will receive an update every Saturday.

"Wake up!"

Steve blinks as Sam grabs him by the shoulders. "What on earth is—"

"Something pretty frickin' weird!" Sam darts out of the room, with Steve on his heels. The hallways blaze with light as people gather around a balcony with a strange imprint on it.

"Thor," Steve breathes.

"Not hardly!" Clint appears, gripping his bow and arrow, jaw set with rage.

Steve's mind leaps several years in the past, to his first real mission after he woke up, when realized he still had a purpose, and he could have friends. To New York. "Loki?"

"We don't know," interrupts a Wakandan woman. "Your friend is gone."

"Natasha," Clint supplies. "She saw her get swept away."

"Swept—what?" Steve blinks.

"By light," the woman puts in. "There was a beam of light, and then she was gone, and this marker was here."

"Maybe Thor wanted to talk to her?" Sam suggests.

The humidity feels cold and slimy against Steve's skin. "Without telling us?"

"All I'm saying is that Natasha's not exactly known for being forthcoming," Sam says, holding his hands in the air.

Clint shakes his head as he examines the strange engravings. "We're like her family. She wouldn't just leave without a word."

"Well, she apparently did," Sam points out.

"There was a man, too," the Wakandan states.

"Who?" Clint asks.

The breeze grabs at him with a cold, skeletal hand. _Oh no_.

It can't be. It's illogical. And yet, somehow, in the pit of his stomach, Steve knows.

He tears off the balcony and through the hallways. Footsteps clatter behind him—Sam and Clint following him. Skidding to a stop outside the room where Bucky sleeps, Steve hesitates. He already knows what he'll find.

He taps the door open and, even though he knew it, the sight of the case gaping, empty, drains him. "Bucky, where did you go?"

"Oh my God," says Sam.

"What the hell?" yells Clint. "He went with her—where? Why?"

This, Steve doesn't know. He doesn't understand. Rage shoots through him, fueled by fear and the fact that he doesn't like not knowing; he should be better at it but he's not. He clamps his hand to his forehead. "What do we do?"

"Which of us is telling T'Challa?" asks Sam.

"I already phoned him," says the Wakandan woman, holding out the phone. "Captain?"

A word Steve seldom says bubbles up in his throat, but he swallows it as he accepts the phone. "Your highness?"

"What happened?" T'Challa demands.

"I—we have no idea. We found—"

"Yes, I know what Rehema told me. Your friend?"

"Do they have him?" Steve bursts out, pacing back and forth. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sam and Clint watch with impatient eyes. "The UN—Stark. Did he track us?"

"My intelligence does not indicate that. And the markings are Asgardian, aren't they?"

"Well—yeah," Steve acquiesces. "But if Thor returned, it might very well be to the Av—to Stark's tower," he corrects himself.

"And maybe Stark convinced him to—" Sam tries.

"I have no information about that," T'Challa repeats. "I am meeting with Stark in a few hours. Trust me, if he is hiding anything, you will find out soon enough."

"I'm sorry," Steve says.

"Why? I took you and your friend in. All of your friends. We promised to protect them, to cure him. We will do this. I keep my word."

"I know," Steve affirms, his throat dry.

_Where did you go? Where did they take you?_

"Maybe Miss Romanoff was trying to protect your friend," T'Challa suggests.

"Probably," Steve agrees. If they hurt him—or worse, if they turn him back into the Winter Soldier… how will Bucky be able to cope with that? How many times can he switch back and forth, forth and back, between two identities and still be a whole man?

At this point, Stark and the government might be the best option for Bucky. Except if last time is any indication, the government doesn't keep its gates shut tight enough to keep monsters out.

"Hey," Sam says, taking the phone away. "We're gonna figure this out, Steve. You and me. And Clint."

"Yeah," Clint says. "Did T'Challa say if he was telling Scott or Wanda?"

"Didn't ask. I imagine he would."

"He better not just yet," Clint spits out, doubling over. "Wanda needs to keep her head about her. She doesn't need this distraction. Not when…"

_When she's getting my wife and kids._

* * *

It feels like a maelstrom raging inside of him, ripping through his body. Light slices all around Bucky, and he has no idea where he's going. Panic flashes in the top of his skull, in the palms of his hands.

And then he hits something solid and everything vanishes, leaving him to gasp and glug in air.

"What in the—"

 _Oh damn._ The agent—Natasha. Bucky cranes his neck to see her getting to her knees, panting. "What was that?"

"I don't know."

Her eyes narrow, as if she knows that's not strictly true.

"Something Asgardian," he offers, sweat sliding down his back, cold and invasive.

"As—what? _Thor?"_

He shakes his head, but he can't say anything else because fear grabs his tongue and won't let go. He remembers all those years he stood there, the mere seconds when humanity would wash through him and rattle the monster they made him to be, the moments where he wanted to refuse, the briefest times when he would ask a question and receive a shock, or a beating.

But those were the early years.

Afterwards, cold calculation replaced every emotion.

Except for when he saw their faces.

"You were asleep," says Natasha, peering at him, her red curls falling haphazardly down her face. "How would you even—"

"He wanted to talk to me," Bucky cuts in. _Dammit_ , she's going think he's betraying Steve, betraying them all.

He just wants his goddamn mind back.

"You don't think Steve is going to panic when he sees that you're gone?" asks Natasha, leaning back and rubbing her knee, lapsing into a relaxed mode. Bucky's not fooled. He's met women like this before, men too. She's playing, hoping for a catch.

But guilt still gnaws at him. "It's for the best. I've caused him nothing but trouble."

"You think you're not worth it?"

Bucky glances at her and then back at the gray, gray dirt. _Where the hell are we?_

"Steve doesn't care whether you're broken. He just wants you—"

"I'm doing this for Steve," Bucky interrupts. "To get my mind back. So he can—" He cuts himself off. Natasha cocks her head.

"Oh good, you came," comes a too-prudent voice.

Natasha jerks her head around, and this time she's the one in shock. "What the—you did not— _you!"_

* * *

_I trust you. You're the best person for this job,_ Wanda remembers Clint telling her, hand grasping the back of her neck. _You can do this._

"How do I look?" she asks, stepping out and dropping into her seat as the plane prepares to land.

"No one will recognize you," T'Challa says.

"Like the most boring businesswoman I've ever seen," Scott quips.

Wanda smoothes her black slacks and plain white blouse. Her honey-brown tresses are pulled up in a sever bun, and her face is utterly devoid of makeup. Sunglasses rest on the seat next to her. She looks cool and collected, no doubt, but her heart hammers against her ribs.

"It's the last thing they'll expect you in," T'Challa reassures her.

"So I'll have what, an hour or two?" Scott asks.

"More like four," Wanda corrects.

"Your girlfriend says they're waiting for you with Hank Pym," T'Challa reports.

"Who?" Wanda asks, leaning forward.

"She's not my girlfriend," Scott clarifies. "Well, sort of. Maybe. It's complicated."

"I'm confused," says Wanda.

"Never mind." Scott waves his hand.

"If things get difficult—"

"They won't. Hank and Hope are pretty good at taking care of things under the radar."

Wanda hopes Scott's right, for his sake, and for his little girl's sake. From the story she heard, Cassie's already been through a lot, and having her dad on the lam again—this time for far more serious crimes than robbery—can't be easy for her. At least T'Challa managed to send word to the girl's mother and stepfather about what really happened. Wanda doubts they'd be able to doubt a prince's word.

But Cassie sounds tough. Wanda smiles as she remembers herself and Pietro, surviving together. When bullies taunted Wanda for being shy and weird, Pietro took them down. When they beat up Pietro, she set them up so that their teacher finally caught them cheating on exams.

But no child should grow up without a parent they loved. Wanda can still see her mother laughing, a single moment before the bomb dropped. Sometimes, the moments blur together.

And Pietro…

Wanda yanks her mind out of the quagmire. She can't sink in her memories today, torturing herself. Clint believes in her. She can save his family.

By the time they land, Wanda's stomach is twisted in a knot, and she keeps taking nervous sips of water that her stomach keeps trying to reject. She coughs.

"See ya," Scott says as he leaves.

Wanda waits until everyone's gone, and then she exits the plane with the help of T'Challa's security. All of them look up to their prince, and it's not hard for Wanda to see why. He commands respect and yet overflows with compassion.

She remembers the look in Vision's eyes when she sent him into the ground.

She studies her hands, the red glow. Compassion is not her strength.

* * *

"Good to see you, your Highness."

"I don't get the impression you enjoy addressing me that way," T'Challa says, watching Tony.

Tony shrugs.

"And how are you?" T'Challa asks Rhodey, who struggles to his feet with a grimace.

Vision turns away. He doesn't feel as if he can listen. His mistakes haunt him, and unlike Tony, he isn't able to drink his memories away.

"And Zemo?" T'Challa asks.

Zemo. Consumed with revenge like… like Wanda admitted she used to be, she and her brother. Except they still retained their consciences.

"Mr. Stark, there's a call from the secretary of state," comes the robotic butler's voice. From where, as Vision understands, his voice used to come from. It's odd to think that his voice isn't really his own.

"Tell him I'm meeting with the king of Wakanda," Tony relies. "It is _king_ now, isn't it?"

"Yes." T'Challa glances out the window, tapping his fingers. Vision frowns.

"Mr. Stark, he's saying it's urgent and it concerns the fugiti—"

"You should get it," T'Challa says quickly.

"Wanda?" asks Vision.

"I'm about to find out. Mr. Secretary? "

"Am I on speaker?"

"What remains of the Avengers is interested to hear what's going on," Tony responds.

 _What_ remains _of the Avengers. Not just_ the Avengers.

 _You feel their absence, too,_ Vision thinks.

"As is, uh, King T'Challa," Tony adds. Vision floats over to the skyline, staring out.

"Several of our security team members following a suspect have reported visions—or others have reported visions, in this very city. That's one of her talents, isn't it?"

"Who were you tailing?" demands Rhodey.

"It's irrelevant—"

"It's only irrelevant if I say it's irrelevant," Tony interrupts.

The secretary sighs. "Fine. Laura Barton."

"Clint's wife?" Rhodey asks. Tony blanches.

"The man with the arrows?" T'Challa asks, sidling next to Vision. "He was a good shot."

"We suspected she would be in contact with her—"

"Are you authorizing us to do something or not?" Rhodey demands.

"Yes. The Maximoff girl is a threat; we've got to—"

"Yeah, yeah, we're on it. All two of us." Tony looks to Vision as he asks for locations.

"Dammit," mutters Rhodey.

"Tony," Vision says as he turns away from the skyline. _You're down there, somewhere._ "We can't hurt her." _We can't do this._

"I'd never want to hurt her," Tony assures him, biting his lip.

"I may not be an Avenger, but I'd be happy to offer my assistance," T'Challa says. Vision stares at him, at Tony, who rolls his eyes. Like it or not, if T'Challa helps... were they wrong about him? Is he helping the others, or not?

_We don't have a choice._

Tony holds out his hand for his armor. "Suit up."

* * *

"Come on!" Wanda grabs Lila and hoists her up on her waist, walking as fast as she can without alarming passersby. _Why can't I have your blasted super speed too, Pietro?_

"Where do we have to go?" pants Laura, clutching her baby Nathaniel Pietro. Cooper hunkers down behind his mother.

"Scott's supposed to be meeting us," Wanda says as they slink through the parking garage. "Here."

"Is Scott the newest Avenger? Unofficial Avenger?" Laura quizzes.

"He's Ant-Man." Wanda glances back at Laura. The secretary will have noticed that Laura hasn't shown up for their meeting by now—if the people she entranced didn't set off the alarms beforehand.

"I hate ants," Lila complains.

"Never been a fan myself," Wanda assures her as they head up a flight of stairs to the second level.

" _Wanda!"_

 _Tony_. Wanda ducks behind a white SUV, Laura and the kids behind her, Lila burying her face in Wanda's pristine jacket.

"Look, we know you're here. It'll be a lot easier if you turn yourself in. Laura, you and the kids are all clear. Vision—"

Wanda starts at the mention of his name. She peeks around the corner of the SUV and notices Stark, red and gold armor glittering in the afternoon sunlight.

"Look, agents are surrounding this place. You're not going to get out and neither of us want anyone to get hurt—"

Laura gasps and Cooper lets out a little shriek.

_Shit._

T'Challa appears behind them, dressed in his black panther suit. "Get in the car and send it and all the others onto the street," he hisses. wrenching open the door to eh SUV. "Don't worry, Mrs. Barton. I've seen her do it before."

"There are people—"

"Agents who'll be fine! Now—"

Wanda waves her hands and watches the red trendils sink into T'Challa's mind. He howls and staggers back.

"Hey!" Tony shouts, soaring at her as she sends the cars around them flying towards the street—in Tony's direction.

 _Sorry_ , she thinks to everyone who won't be able to get home. She slows the SUV and protects them from the other crashing cars. Cooper and Lila scream and Nathaniel starts to cry.

"Hey," Scott says as he materializes in front of her in tiny form. "Get moving!"

Wanda clambers out of the car, dragging Lila with her as she stumbles through the wreckage. Shouts echo around her, and then a crash behind her—she whirls around to see T'Challa, still trapped in his vision—or is he?—thrashing and charging at her, and then at the agents.

"Let's go," Wanda breathes as she races across the street, across the median to where a sedan waits. They leap inside, Scott snaps back into his normal size, and he speeds off.

But a purple figure rises in the sky above them. "Shit," Wanda whispers.

"Hey! If she can say it, why can't I?" Lila gripes.

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." Wanda smoothes Lila's hair as Scott speeds. "How is your daughter?" She cranes her neck looking behind them, expecting to see an army following them.

"Cute. I got her a kitten. Maggie's gonna be mad."

But no agents appear.

* * *

"They got away," Tony gasps. _"How?"_

"That girl… her visions," T'Challa says. Tony raises his eyebrows behind the king''s back.

"They're terrible," comments an agent, with an edge in her tone. Vision doesn't appreciate it. He's had enough of people assuming Wanda to be a monster.

At first, he thought it was obvious she wasn't, and she only needed to realize that. And then when he sent Rhodey crashing to the ground—when Vision saw him hit, when the reality of his diagnosis sliced through him, and then every moment since where Rhodey struggles to walk—Vision understands. It's hard not to believe you're a monster—or at least capable of monstrous things—when the loudest voice screaming is your own.

But Wanda's not. For whatever reason, she's better than that. "She was trying to reunite Laura with Clint, I'm sure," Vision says, his voice dragged by exhaustion, even though he'll never need to sleep.

"Clint Barton is a fugitive," spits the secretary.

"Yeah, um, we're aware," snaps Tony. He rubs at a contusion on his temple.

"And you couldn't see them?" he demands, turning to Vision.

He saw her.

Carrying that little girl—Clint's daughter, whom Vision had only seen photos of until today—and urging them all along. Jumping into a sedan. Heading east.

"No," Vision says. "I saw some cars heading west. As I told you."

 _We need to be put in check_.

He still agrees. Now more than ever. But when obeying would mean Wanda being locked up in a straightjacket again…

"You didn't see? How did you not see? I thought you could—"

"He can make mistakes," Tony offers. "Nobody's perfect. Not even one of my creations."

"Yes, he can," Rhodey says, offering Vision a smile assuring him he doesn't fault him for whatever he did, or didn't do.

The secretary huffs. Vision paces away, floating towards the window. T'Challa narrows his eyes, and Vision returns the king's stare.

"Don't worry, Violet," says Tony, still staring at the secretary. "Maybe you're just more human than I thought. Not a bad thing."

"Given the current state of the world, maybe, a very bad thing," Rhodey counters.

Vision looks down at the teeming street. Avengers tower, an empty home. And now he knows what home means, and maybe family, in that there are people he cares about. And yet, they're all fighting, because they're flawed. Even now, Tony knows, and he's lying—why, Vision doesn't know. For Wanda? For Vision? Because he needs vibranium for whatever he's cooking up next?

Vision can also make mistakes.

He can lie, too.


	4. Chapter 4

"You made a deal with him?" spits Natasha, glowering at Bucky as if he's the devil himself.

"Why is she here?" asks Loki pointedly.

"She—" Bucky swallows. His arm throbs. A missing metal arm shouldn't ache, though, in multiple ways. But it does.

"You've travelled far outside of your realm, little—"

"Have you forgotten what happened last time we met?" Natasha returns, glancing around as if expecting to see a big green hero leap over the desolate mountains. Bucky saw the news reports after New York. "I don't care that you helped Thor when the elf tried to destroy the world."

"Elves?" Bucky asks. _Does this have to do with Greenwich?_

"Never mind."

"She wasn't supposed to come here," Loki says to Bucky.

"She jumped into your—whatever that was." Bucky tries not to notice how angry Natasha looks. "He said if I did one thing for him he could cure—"

"Bifrost," Loki says.

"Bucky, why did you believe him?" Natasha asks. "Thor said his nickname was 'Silvertongue.' Lying and manipulating are what he—"

Shame curdles in Bucky's stomach.

"And you're one to talk about that, aren't you?" Loki asks. "I _have_ seen your ledger, Romanoff. How you carried out that hospital mission—"

"What mission do you have for me?" Bucky asks, stepping forward with Loki's words echoing in his mind. He looks back at Natasha, who's looking at Loki with distinct sadness in her eyes.

 _What was this hospital mission?_ he wonders.

"I need you to help me steal something from Thanos."

"Who's Thanos?" Bucky asks.

"The mad Titan, some call him." Loki's lips curve up in a smile as he watches Bucky frown. "He has something he plans to use to destroy—"

"So, a weapon," states Bucky, his mind clambering to get back into the tunnel vision mode he'd slip into whenever they gave him a task to complete, where the mission became the only think that matters, where it echoed with his every heartbeat and burned in his brain until he completed it.

Or, until Steve told him he was with him till the end of the line, and fell, and something like softness, like memories of children laughing and saving pennies for ice cream, of loyalty beyond just a mission, whispered to him.

Loki scowls. "More like something to hold a few weapons. Superweapons, really." He narrows his eyes at Natasha. "Thanos is the one who I partnered with to unleash the Chitauri on New York."

Bucky grits his teeth.

"So, you're playing your former ally," Natasha says, swallowing. She doesn't look at Bucky, but the message hits him just the same.

_Who's to say he won't play you, too?_

"He has no idea I'm alive," Loki says. "And I'd like to keep it that way. Aren't there days you'd like to play dead, little spider?" But his eyes latch on to Bucky's.

_That wasn't what I was doing._

_I just wanted to give them time—protect them—_

Natasha crosses her arms.

"Natasha," Bucky says, and she looks at him with her brow furrowed. Loki cocks his head. "He says he can fix my mind, if I—"

"Just collect this one item for me," Loki interrupts. "That's all. And then I can fix your mind with Gungnir—" He brandishes his staff. "—and I'll leave your precious earth alone."

"You seemed very interested in not leaving our precious earth alone a few years ago," Natasha says.

"That was before." Loki glances away.

Natasha steps forward. "Where is this Thanos?"

"Near here. In-between realms." Loki smirks.

"She's not coming with me," Bucky says.

"My other alternative is to kill her, so—" Loki starts.

"Because you can't erase that from my mind?" Natasha asks sweetly. "Because if you can so easily erase his mind of years of torture, I would think you'd be able to—"

Bucky's gaze snaps to Loki, who blinks as if rattled. "Are you inviting me to mess with your mind?"

"You can't fix me, can you?" Bucky manages.

"I can, but it's not through erasing," Loki answers smoothly. Bucky's stomach roils as blood surges through him. If this gamble doesn't pay off, and they're stuck out here in—in space? In-between realms, whatever the hell that mean?

"I know what you're trying to do, Romanoff. Who's manipulating now?"

Natasha bites her lip.

"You don't have to trust me," Loki tells them. "But what other options do you have?"

 _None_. Like the air in this place. It clearly exists, or something like it because Bucky can breathe, but there's no cold or heat, no breeze, nothing convince him that this place isn't dust and rocks and nothingness.

Bucky clenches the one fist he has left. He can't bear to think of letting Steve down again, and the longer they're gone—

"If I know you wouldn't betray Steve, he knows the same," Natasha says softly as she sidles up next to him.

He blinks and looks at her. "You trust me?"

"I don't trust anyone." _And neither should you,_ comes her unspoken warning. Her eyes, blue and green and a little gray, harden as if she's trying to clock him from seeing something, or block something in her own mind.

"If you'd like to get some necessary information that could help you actually accomplish this, I suggest you come closer," Loki says, leaning against a crumbling bolder as if he couldn't care less. But Bucky—and maybe Natasha too—senses a tightness in his tone.

_You need us, don't you?_

"Why are you turning against Thanos, if you used to work with him?" Bucky asks as he approaches.

"Why did you turn against Hydra? Against Russia?" Loki slams his staff into the dirt.

"I didn't want to be a monster," Bucky says. He didn't want to add more faces to his already infinite list. He didn't want to let down the one person who begged him, who said he was with him until the end of the line.

Natasha crosses her arms and doesn't answer.

"Well, Thanos is a monster," Loki declares. "And if you don't manage to steal the Infinity Gauntlet from him, he will hunt down all of the Infinity Stones and destroy everything in the Nine Realms. Starting with Midgard."

"What?" Natasha demands.

"The Infinity Guantlet is a powerful gauntlet, and there are two. One is safely locked away in Asgard's vault—"

Natasha's eyes gleam, and Bucky smirks. As conniving as Loki thinks he is, Bucky has the feeling hat next time Natasha hears from Thor, his brother's going to find out just where Loki's hiding.

"And he has the other, along with the Time gem and the Soul Gem. There are four more stones that he doesn't have, not yet."

"Where are those?" Bucky demands.

"The Mind Stone is inside your purple friend; the Aether is with a certain collector, and the Tesseract is in Asgard's vault. The Power stone is on Xandar."

"Where the hell is that?" Bucky asks.

"Irrelevant to you," Loki says. "If you get this gauntlet, you can save Midgard. Isn't that kind of your business?" he asks Natasha.

"The Tesseract is a magic space gem?" Bucky scowls.

"Yes." Loki glowers, and as easy as it would be to dismiss him, they have no other options. And what's worse, the lack of any sort of sneer in Natasha's eyes tells Bucky that Loki might just be telling the truth.

_You barely know her. Why do you feel as if you can read her?_

Natasha casts Bucky another glare, as if somehow this Thanos's movements are all his fault, because he left Steve. "I don't like this."

"What you like and don't like isn't my priority," Loki says, bored.

"I still think this might be a mistake," Natasha says, staring directly at Bucky and he doesn't know _why_ , why that word— _mistake_ —echoes, why it whispers as if it holds the key to something that, yet again, he doesn't remember.

 _This. This is exactly why I have to do this_.

"Haven't you ever been desperate before?" he asks.

* * *

" _Daddy!"_

Steve leans back against the wall, watching as Clint clutches his daughter and son to his chest. Scott and Wanda look on, both with ghosts haunting their smiles.

Two days. Two days, and they still have nothing on Bucky or Natasha. Steve could punch Thor the next time he sees him. All of Wakanda's top-notch scientists haven't been able to help, and when Steve called Jane Foster for help, she told him that if Thor was involved, he could go to hell.

A hand clamps on his shoulder. T'Challa. "Let's talk."

"How's Tony?" Steve asks as he follows T'Challa down a hallway.

"Your friend is…" T'Challa hesitates. "Lost."

"Still angry, I presume?" Sam adds as he joins them.

"I don't blame him," Steve says.

"Neither do I," T'Challa affirms. "When I thought your friend had killed my father, I had the same reaction."

"But you realized he didn't do it," Sam supplies.

"And I saw you all tearing each other apart. I realized that was not what my father wanted, and more importantly, it wasn't what I wanted for myself," T'Challa says.

"But now Bucky's gone," Steve blurts out. "And I _can't_ even search for him, because I have no idea how to travel to another universe—"

"Realm; he calls them realms," Sam interrupts.

" _Realm_ ," Steve acquiesces. "I don't like feeling helpless."

"No one does," T'Challa says, and Steve remembers that T'Challa was in the U.N. building, survived while his father died.

"He was always there growing up. Always defended me. And it kills me that I'm completely helpless," Steve says.

"The only person who can maybe figure out something about contacting Asgard is Jane Foster, and she's refusing to have anything to do with Asgard and Thor," Sam translates. "I don't think she's taken well to being abandoned by her boyfreind again. Not that I blame her. Like come on, Thor."

T'Challa snorts in laughter. "We'll see if she says no to the king of Wakanda,"

"Um, if she suspects you have something to do with the Avengers, probably she will," Sam says.

"Even if she does, I'll offer more than enough to finance her research for years to come," T'Challa says. "She can choose to stay in Wakanda or return to—where is it she's from?"

"She's American, but she lives in London," Steve says.

"Why're you so eager to help?" Sam questions. "I mean, you've dedicated so much time and so many resources—""

" _Sam_ ," Steve cuts in.

"Because it's what my father would have done," T'Challa says. "Help people. Protect his people, and his country, and his friends. I know I'm not my father, but I'm still trying to figure out how to be a king."

"We appreciate it," Steve says.

"The girl—Wanda," T'Challa says. "Her visions."

Steve winces. "Yep, been on the receiving end of that before."

"I saw my father die again, and I saw Wakanda collapsing," T'Challa admits. "And my father was watching. I don't know what it means."

"Aren't they just hallucinations?" Sam asks.

"Maybe not," Steve says quietly, his brain churning. "Although I'm sure—"

"Her powers did come from that scepter, didn't they? And that's from another world," T'Challa muses.

"But Wakanda won't collapse," Sam says.

"No, it won't," agrees T'Challa.

* * *

"How is this disguise going to work when I'm missing an arm?" Bucky asks.

Loki scoffs and waves his hand. Natasha almost yelps when she sees an arm appear.

"That's an illusion," Loki says. "It'll last for—enough. Enough time for you to steal the gauntlet and jump through that portal I mentioned."

"I thought I'd never have to see Chitauri anything again," mumbles Natasha.

"Surprise," Loki says with a smirk.

"The Chitauri serve Thanos?" Bucky questions.

"They're one of many species that have sworn their loyalty, yes," Loki answers.  
Natasha sees his grip on that staff he's carrying tighten. His knuckles blanch.

"Why would they agree to serve him?" Natasha asks.

"Promises that, even if they turn out to be lies, offer something in the meantime," Loki says.

"Hope?" Natasha taunts.

"Purpose."

 _And you? What purpose did he offer you?_ Natasha wonders.

Loki's eyes flash as if he realizes that, just like on the helicarrier, he's said too much.

"Thank you," says Natasha, remembering Thor describing how his brother fell into the void.

"If we get caught, I assume you want us to die without mentioning you," Bucky says.

"I want you not to get caught. That's why I chose you. Famous Winter Soldier, the one whose very existence is just a rumor. It would have been easier if it was just you, but—"

"We weren't trained by entirely different groups," Natasha says, glancing at Bucky. His eyes widen. _Really? That surprises you?_

 _You remember_ nothing.

Natasha bites her lip, tastes blood.

"How would you know that?" Loki asks.

"You saw my ledger," Natasha responds. "You know where I came from. We grew up hearing about the Winter Soldier," she adds to Bucky.

"You did?"

"You were used to motivate us. We could never be like you, but we could be close." This place doesn't have heat or chill, and yet goosebumps prickle on Natasha's arm, down her neck.

"I'm sorry," Bucky mumbles.

Natasha shakes her head. "Don't be." She offers him a smile. He blinks and frowns, as if unable to understand why.

 _I can't ever tell you, can I? It'd destroy you_. Natasha digs the toe of her boot into the dirt.

 _You almost destroyed yourself!_ The Headmistress's voice echoes in Natasha's mind, followed y a slap she can still feel sting her face, years after.

Loki and Bucky are both watching her, Loki with narrowed eyes and Bucky with a crease between his brows, as if he's trying to place something and can't quite do it. Natasha swallows. "Are we ready?"

"I suppose you are," Loki says.

"And you?" she asks, because she remembers what he did to Clint, how Loki used their friendship to hurt her, to hurt him. Whatever he deciphered from her now—well, she can spin it back, gather her own leverage. Because if her ledger is gushing red, Loki's is a torrent. "Will you go back and help with Thor's mission?"

Loki scowls. "I'll be waiting for you two to get to that portal. What I do while I'm waiting is none of your business."

 _So, you're worried we won't succeed_ , Natasha thinks. "I forgot you hate him."

"You would hate having a perfect brother too," Loki retorts, glancing behind his shoulder.

 _But you don't hate him, do you?_ "Don't worry. We'll ensure Thanos's rule doesn't threaten yours."

"I have no desire for those gems," Loki snaps.

Natasha wants to laugh, but she can't. There's something haunted in Loki's eyes, a fear she's seen in Bucky's, in her own eyes too.

_What did Thanos do to you?_

"Let's go," Bucky says.

* * *

"Thor, your father's returned," Sif tells him as he flies back from the rainbow bridge. "Thor, what's wrong?"

Thor's face burns. He shakes his head. "Heimdall can't see Natasha."

"One of your warrior friends on Midgard?" questions Fandral.

"Yes." Thor clenches his fists. "Last time he couldn't see someone—Jane would up with the Aether in her body."

"The Aether's safe with the Collector," Voltstagg tells him. "I saw to that myself."

"Excuse me?" retorts Sif.

"With Sif," Voltstagg amends. " _We_ saw to it."

Sif huffs.

"I'll discuss it with Father," Thor decides, thrusting Mjolnir into the air and soaring off.

"The Allfather is tired and will see you tomorrow," one of the Einharjar tells him.

Moments like these, Thor forgets that he's supposed to be patient now. Blood boils as he storms away.

 _You said you were proud of me. You said—you said so many goddamn things and now you're full of shit._ Thor lets out a yell when he reaches his chambers, upending the table set out for him. Meat and puddings and small purple fruits fly through the air.

"He refused to meet with you, didn't he?"

"Leave me alone, Sif. I'm not in a gaming mood." Thor storms past her.

She follows. "I know you're not. That's why I'm came."

"Why, exactly?" Thor rummages through a cabinet until his fist closes around a bottle of mead. He takes a swig.

Sif crosses her arms, her long hair dangling loose. "Because I think it's suspicious that your friend disappears at the same time the Allfather is gone, without public explanation, for two days."

"It's not as if he hasn't taken journeys before, far longer ones," Thor says, chugging more mead. He needs his head to spin. "And he doesn't know Natasha. I may have mentioned her, but he's never cared about the Avengers."

"I know. But Thor, something's not right here, and you have to feel it just as I do," Sif says. A fire cackles behind her. "The Warriors Three and I have been talking—"

"About what?" Thor demands. He offers her the mead. Sif takes it and gulps.

"About the Allfather," Sif admits.

Thor rubs his face and drops onto a sofa.

"He's been acting strangely lately, since your return really," Sif says, almost pleading. "Even before that, he was distant—far more distant than I ever remember, but I assumed that was because you were gone, and your mother and Loki—" She stops.

"Grief tears your heart out," Thor says, thinking of his mother, his brother, Jane. "It's not that unlikely to think he's changed."

"But Thor, something's not right. Your visions—what if they're connected?" Sif sits across from him.

Thor lifts his face, peering at her. The firelight dances across her features, across her umber hair. "What are you saying, Sif?"

"I'm _saying_ , I find it interesting that you have visions of our demise—of Asgard's demise—while the Allfather has been making questionable decisions and exercising weak leadership."

"You think my father—"

"Yes, Thor, I do!" Sif shouts back. "If Asgard is in danger—you and I both know what role Asgard plays in the Nine Realms. If we fall to some outside danger… or maybe, if we fall from within—the entire universe is at stake."

 _If we fall from within…_ The fire seems at once too warm and not warm enough. Thor shivers and feels sweat beading on his forehead. "That's a possibility… I hadn't considered. Falling from within."

"What do you want to do?" Sif asks. Her face is so close to his, and her lips—they're a different shape than Jane's.

 _Jane_. Thor shakes himself. Blast, the woman still has his heart. "Call the Warriors Three," he dictates, rising and turning away from Sif, grabbing the mead bottle. "We need to discuss."

* * *

"There's news," T'Challa says, jolting Steve from sleep.

"What? Bucky?" Steve pants. The room is still darkened, although an orange strip glows from behind several indigo clouds. Dawn's starting to pry the night away.

"Maybe. Wake up Sam. We need to go."

"Not anyone else?" Steve blinks.

"We need to keep things quiet," T'Challa tells him. "Rehema told me that something… extraterrestrial landed near the mountains."

"So it could be Bucky." Steve rises from his bed.

"It could be," T'Challa agrees. "But there appears to be some sort of vehicle flown in."

 _Vehicle?_ "Flown in from where?"

"The atmosphere," T'Challa says.

"Do you mean space?"

"That would be likely, yes."

"This is getting weirder and weirder," Steve says out loud.

T'Challa smiles. "Now get Sam and meet me back here in five minutes."

Sam wakes up with a few choice words, but seems to adjust as he follows Steve back into his room. The hour-long drive to the mountains is quiet, the early morning fog surrounding the car and pressing in on Steve. His anxiety climbs.

"I'll fly ahead," Sam offers when they arrive. "You two run up the mountain."

Something niggles in Steve's mind, eats away at his stomach. The last time he dealt with a cosmic force, thousands died in New York. The last time he heard of a space creature arriving on earth, Greenwich took the hit.

 _Thor, buddy, we could really use you right now_.

"You don't believe this is your friend, do you?" asks T'Challa.

"I don't know," Steve says. "The vehicle—it doesn't make sense. Unless he stole one? From Asgard?"

"Maybe." T'Challa frowns. "There wasn't nearly as strong of a heat surge as was recorded when Bucky and Natasha vanished."

"Holy shit!" Sam's voice filters through their earphones. "Holy—"

"Sam?" Steve shouts. "Are you—"

"Steve, T'Challa, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but a raccoon just yelled at me to stop staring at it."


	5. Chapter 5

"Shit," Steve says, because he's got nothing else to say that could possibly suffice for what he's seeing in front of him.

T'Challa tenses, as if wondering if they're going to need to attack. Sam still gapes at the creatures gathered around a strange looking… spaceship?

 _You already know aliens are real,_ Steve reminds himself. _Why is this so shocking?_

"What are you looking at?" snaps the raccoon. Sam yelps and Steve takes a step back.

"Oh hey," says the man, who actually looks like a human being. Two other humans loiter nearby, an enormous man with tattooed skin, and a woman with green skin and a smirk on her face.

And there's a walking tree.

Steve rubs his eyes. "Am I dreaming?"

"Erm, nope," says the man. "I've heard of you guys. Avengers, right? Cool name."

"I'm confused," states T'Challa. The morning sun shines down on them, and the humidity swathes them, seeping in through Steve's suit. Sweat drips down his back.

"I'm guessing you haven't heard of me. I'm Starlord."

"What kind of a name is that?" demands Steve. The other man sets his jaw.

"We haven't heard of you," T'Challa says, still trying to figure these people out. Creatures. People. Steve can't tell.

"Okay, _Starlord_ , what are you doing here?" Sam demands.

The large man, who reminds Steve of the Hulk, glares at Sam. Steve clutches his shield.

"Relax," says the green woman. "We're not here to attack."

"Yeah, we come in peace, or whatever," adds Starlord.

"I am Groot," says the tree.

"There's now a talking tree," Sam squeaks.

"We did not come in peace," growls the tattooed man, who's roughly the size of a boulder. "We came to warn of war."

"You want a war?" snarls T'Challa.

"Great job, Drax," snips the raccoon. "Look, we're not here to start one. We're just warning you, is all. See, her dad—"

"Thanos is _not_ my father," the green woman interrupts. She crosses her arms and surveys them. "The man who would like to consider himself my father is at risk of destroying the _entire_ galaxy, your world included. We heard of the Avengers' exploits and came to warn you."

"Who is Thanos and why does he want to destroy everything?" Sam asks. "And how did you hear about us?" He looks to T'Challa, to Steve. "Are we famous in space?"

"Xandar keeps track of a variety of worlds," the green woman explains, as if that should make sense. She leans back against the ship.

"So you _are_ aliens," Steve says.

"Not me. Well, I'm only half-alien, half-Terren," says Starlord.

"Are you here about our friends who disappeared the other day?" Steve asks. "To Asgard?"

"As-what?" asks the raccoon.

"I had enough things to deal with without extraterrestrial intrusions," groans T'Challa.

"Look, we can explain about Thanos," says the green girl. "I'd heard that Terrens spend their whole lives on one planet."

"Boring, if you ask me," snips the raccoon.

"Safe," Sam counters.

"So, boring," the raccoon says, waving its paw. His paw. Hand?

"We'll come with you if you want," adds Starlord, holding up his hands. "We're not trying to create a problem, but we're gonna have a lot to talk about. Where are your other friends?"

"At my palace," says T'Chalal, straightening out of attack mode. Steve still clutches his shield.

"Are the other Avengers still in New York?" questions the green woman.

 _How do they know so much_? It's somewhat eerie. Sweat creeps down Steve's spine.

"Yes," T'Challa answers.

"Including the purple one? With the mind gem in him?"

"Vision?" Steve asks. "You mean the thing from Loki's scepter?"

"Yes, Loki's scepter had the mind gem," the woman says impatiently. Judging from the flash in her eyes, Steve's guessing she knows Loki, and that hardly makes him want to trust her. _If you knew he planned to invade, why didn't you warn us then?_

_How much worse can the danger be now?_

"That friend of yours is in great danger," the woman warns.

* * *

Every footstep echoes in this hollow moon. The sky around them glows a dark chrome, and the red-brown rocks—are they rocks?—jut out like angry warriors, ready to stab anyone unlucky enough to trip over the uneven terrain.

"If this is where someone who wants to destroy the world lives, I believe it," Natasha breathes.

Bucky glances at her. Unrecognizable in her Chitauri armor, she deftly dodges a strange crack along the surface. Bucky follows her footsteps.

"Don't you think?" she asks, as if she's trying to engage him in conversation.

He shrugs. In his childhood, maybe he would have pictured this empty place as the setting for a villain's lair. In his life, though, he knows exactly where villains live—in labs, in palaces, in Siberia and New York and Sokovia. "People are doing a fine job destroying the world from inside it."

Natasha pauses on the edge of a staircase that seems to float up. "True enough."

Bucky's surprised. "I thought you fight to save the world."

"Didn't you?" she asks. "Once?"

"Back in the war," he admits. Back when he thought there was a world worth saving.

"Do you miss them?" Natasha asks as she climbs the steps. "Your family. I know Steve struggled with it, when he realized how much time, and how many people, he lost…"

Bucky snorts, stepping onto the floating stair. It supports his weight. "How close were you with him?"

"We've done several missions together," Natasha answers.

 _Dammit_. Bucky sighs. "I miss them, but I'm glad they're gone." He wouldn't have wanted his family, any of the girls he'd dated—to know what he's become. More villain than hero, soldier for the wrong side, an assassin with faces that flash behind his eyes when he needs them to go away. Like now.

"Have you ever tried to track down any relatives, or descendants?" Natasha asks as she duck beneath the outcropping of another floating mass. A moon? An asteroid?

"I'm not going to put them through that." Bucky shakes his head. "Have you tried to track down your family?"

"They're dead. I watched them die," Natasha says. "The Avengers are my family. Like Steve is for you."

Bucky does not want to talk about this. He can only imagine how enraged Steve might be. But if he can get his mind back…

Scream tears through the dead air, rushing down Bcuky's spine. He tries to focus. _Longing. Rusted._

_Stop! Stop!_

"Bucky?" Natasha asks

_Seventeen…_

"Oh, shit," Natasha says as she grabs the one arm he still has. _Focus. Focus on her, and not on the screams_.

He sees her grabbing something, a rock maybe, and he sees faces, all those faces, again, and they're—

Something slams into his skull, and everything goes black.

* * *

"Oh, Tony's gonna react to that real well," scoffs Sam. "People from space say we need you."

"Are all Terrens this petty?" Starlord wonders.

"You hardly seem to inspire a different opinion," the green woman, Gamora, tells him. Steve snorts and exchanges a smirk with T'Challa.

"Look," says Rocket. "We came to warn you, and now we have."

"Warn us that a mad Titan has space jewelry he's going to use to blow up the world?" asks Scott.

"Is it really so hard to believe?" asks Wanda, lifting her hands. Red tendrils float around her skin.

"I am _Groot_ ," says the tree appreciatively. Wanda smiles. Clint rubs his face, studying his shoes as if they hold the answer.

"Thanos is not to be trifled with," Drax says. "He killed my family. He needs to be destroyed."

"He also killed mine," Gamora says. "Before he adopted me. He adopted Loki, too."

"What?" Clint jumps to his feet. "Did you say—"

"Thanos is a master manipulator," Gamora says, her voice permeated with a bitter tinge. She crosses her arms and look sstraight at T'Challa. "He takes in children who survive his assaults on their home worlds, after he's massacred everyone else. He molds them into weapons. He takes in anyone he finds lost in the galaxy in whom he sees something he can use, and he breaks them down and uses them however he wishes."

 _Like Bucky,_ Steve thinks. He studies the green woman. _What did he do to you?_

"My sister Nebula found Loki," Gamora says.

"Loki tortured me," Clint says coldly. "Not physically. He used the scepter to—"

"I know," Gamora says. "He saw you had heart, and he used that. Thanos showed us all."

"Good thing baby Thanos is dead," Clint mutters. Gamora cocks her head.

"So this mind gem," Wanda says, her brow creased. "Thanos wants it?"

"Looks like aliens are becoming an ordinary part of life. Great," Scott comments.

"Thanos took the power gem recently from Xandar," says Starlord. "Somewhere in space," he clarifies. "He's going after the mind one next."

Wanda glances at Steve, at Sam, at Clint. "We can't let them hurt Vision."

"We won't," Steve promises her. She sided with him when he needed to protect Bucky. Now, as sketchy as the situation may be, he won't let her try to save Vision on her own.

"Tony is never going out believe this," says Sam darkly.

"Would he believe a bunch of aliens?" asks Starlord. "If we showed up at this tower I've heard about on the Milano?"

"Like the actress?" Scott asks.

Steve rubs his head. T'Challa's eyes are still wide as if to say _I can't believe I'm entertaining aliens in my palace_.

"Everyone," Wanda says, rising and clenching her fists. "This is the life of our friend we're talking about. If what they say is true, and this Thanos comes for him, he'll—"

"Funnily enough, you raise a good point," Clint says as he leans forward. "Why should we believe them?"

"Um, because we came from space to warn you?" Starlord challenges.

"Ungrateful," grumbles Rocket. Every time that animal speaks, Sam jumps.

"If they go, I could go with them," Wanda suggests. "I think if they're lying, I'm the best one able to handle it." Red glows from her hands, in her irises.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Clint grabs her arm.

"We don't need one of you tagging along," Rocket snaps.

"I am _Groot,"_ the tree disagrees _. Oh good grief, am I starting to understand that thing?_ Steve wonders, rubbing his face.

Rocket shakes his head. "I know it's her friend, but I—oh, all right, fine, whatever makes you happy, witch."

"Hey!" Steve shouts, but Wanda smiles as if she's not opposed to that name.

"It's settled then," decides Gamora.

"Is it?" Sam glances at Steve, who looks to T'Challa.

The king nods. "I'll provide you with food before you go."

"Won't take us very long. We'll just jet back out into space, and then come back. It's the only way to travel, man," Starlord tells them all.

Steve shakes his head.

* * *

His head burns. The stench of whatever Chitauri used to own this armor shoves its way up his nose. He coughs and groans.

"Who am I talking to?" Natasha demands, grabbing him. She relaxes when she sees his face.

"What did you do?"

"Recalibration. It worked for Clint when Loki enchanted his mind." Natasha scowls.

"Where are we?" They're inside somewhere, shadows crisscrossing over the floor, a bit of dull light dotting under craggy ceiling.

"Some cave." Natasha shrugs as more screams split the air.

The screaming. Bucky clamps his lips shut as the shrill shrieks scratch at his skin.

"Listen," Natasha says. "If you can't do this—"

"I can. I need to—"

" _I_ can do it for you," Natasha interrupts. "I can't risk something happening to you. Steve would kill me."

 _Bullshit_. There's no way Bucky's letting that happen. He's capable of this. "Where are those screams coming from?"

"I investigated while you were out." Natasha picks up a small rock in her hand and tosses it into the air. "Nothing good."

"They're torturing people. Or, aliens." Bucky frowns. _Chitauri?_

Natasha tosses and catches the rock again. "Yes."

"How soon can we get away from this place?"

The rock clatters onto the ground. Natasha swallows. "I think there's a tunnel under it. Remember, Loki did say there was a tunnel…"

" _Directly_ under it?"

"Yeah."

"Shit." Bucky rubs his face. "Fine. If I freak out—"

"I'll bash you over the head," Natasha tells him with a smile.

"You don't have to look so happy about it," he tells her, surprised by the teasing lilt in his voice. She laughs, and the sound—happy, free—offsets the tortured screams.

She cocks her head and reaches for her helmet, and plants it over her curls. "Let's go."

Both of them climb down into the canyon. The screams echo all around them, shredding the sense of calm Bucky remembers sheathing him for all of those missions. He tenses. Maybe, without it, he's useless now.

 _This mission is to save yourself. And maybe other people, too, if Loki's telling the truth,_ Bucky tells himself.

"Here," Natasha says, stopping in front of a small gaping hole at the base of the cliff. "We've gotta be quick."

He nods and ducks inside. His shoulders barely squeeze through, but he gets in. Hopefully the tunnel doesn't narrow at all. Only once he's inside does he realize he should have let Natasha go first, so she could kick him in the head if the screaming gets too much. And then he wishes he hadn't realized that. His brain's all over the place. It's a mess. Like him.

The tunnel's pitch black, and dust flies up into his nostrils. Natasha coughs behind him, and instead of feeling nothing in the air, heat swoops in. Sweat trickles down his back, and the rocks surrounding them burn against his clothes.

The screams erupt, and Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, freezing.

"Bucky," Natasha says. "Come on. You can do it. Think of—of Steve."

He hates this. He hates being useless, being a mess, being something pitiable. He should have died when he fell off that cliff.

But he didn't.

He didn't, and now he _needs_ to do this. Drawing in breath through his teeth, Bucky shimmies on.

"Where are you _really_ from?" a voice roars.

"Tell us, and we'll make it stop—"

"Tell us what you know about Alfheim, little elf, and maybe Thanos will have mercy and adopt you—"

Pleas explode, and Bucky crawls on. If hell exists, it must be here. But Natasha's stopped.

"Come on," he growls to her.

"Do you think they tortured Loki?" comes her response.

"Don't you think they'll torture us if we get caught?" he responds. Not that it would matter if they tortured Loki.

Except, it would. _Maybe he does know what it's like,_ Bucky thinks.

The nothingness retakes the heat, and Bucky slides out of the tunnel, Natasha behind him, still coughing.

"What now?"

* * *

"So what is your plan? To defeat this Thanos?" T'Challa inquires as he and Steve jump into the SUV driving everyone back to the ship. The Milano. Named after an actress Steve doesn't know.

"We don't have a set plan," Drax grunts. "Would have been easier before he grabbed that power orb."

"It would have," Gamora agrees.

"We're still going to kill him. Somehow." Drax glares out the window, and Steve remembers what the man said about Thanos killing his family.

Steve thinks of Tony and cringes.

"Are you looking to start a war over this?" T'Challa demands.

"A war's already started. Thanos has been planning for ages and ages," Gamora informs him, leaning forward. "He wants power. He wants to kill everything and everyone."

"To rule the world?" Steve suggests.

"To kill it. To destroy it. He's in love with death," Gamora says, her eyes boring into Steve's.

"How exactly does that work?" T'Challa asks.

Gamora shrugs. "I don't know. He's as much an enigma to me as he is to you. All I know is he needs to be stopped."

"I don't want a war based on vengeance for what he did to you or to your family," T'Challa says. "I can't let the people of Wakanda—not again—"

"Not again?" Gamora inquires. She studies T'Challa with her eyes.

He grimaces. "My father died in a desperate bid for revenge. I almost let it destroy me. It tore the Avengers apart," T'Challa says. "I can't—"

"Your father sounds like he was a good man," Gamora tells him, reaching out and placing her hand on his shoulder. He doesn't pull away. "My father taught me to always take revenge. And that was before Thanos."

Steve swallows.

She looks back at T'Challa, her dark eyes stark against her green skin. "I don't want vengeance. I want peace. But I _know_ what Thanos plans to do, and I have to stop it. We do."

"I can respect that," T'Challa tells her.

"We're the Guardians of the Galaxy," puts in Starlord.

Steve exchanges a glance with T'Challa.

"It's a better name than Avengers," snorts Rocket.

"More alliterative," Starlord continues.

Wanda sighs, peering out the window as if she's wondering what she's gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I know I generally update on Saturdays, but next week I will probably update on Sunday instead, because I will be traveling.


	6. Chapter 6

"Remember when your crazy sister was chasing us in those pods?" Rocket asks. "They were better than this."

"Sorry this car isn't up to your standards," Wanda retorts, gripping the wheel of the minivan she borrowed. Well, _borrowed,_ but without permission. She has a pretty good idea that Vision would label it stealing. _Oh well._ Their other options are limited, because Wanda knows that the government is watching Tony. They can't land a spaceship at Avengers tower—if they didn't have to convince Tony to help first, maybe they could fight their way out, but given how much Tony hates Steve…

"And why do Groot and me have to go in the way back? Groot doesn't like the dark," Rocket complains.

 _Keep talking, furry creature, and I'll turn you into mittens,_ Wanda thinks. "Because if they see you—"

"Yeah, you all are too weird looking," taunts Starlord from the passenger seat. Drax grunts from behind him.

Gamora hits him on the shoulder.

"Hey!" he yelps. Wanda swerves to avoid a breaking car in front of her. The city skyline looms up ahead.

"Does this thing fly?" asks Rocket.

"No. It drives," Wanda answers.

"Boring. You earthlings are so unimaginative," comments Rocket.

"Is that New York City?" asks Starlord, leaning forward. "Man, I always wanted to visit."

Wanda smiles. Vision's there. And Tony, and Rhodey. Her friends. Except she isn't sure if they're still friends at all. Does it even matter?

Maybe all that matters is that they were friends, and because of that, she needs to protect them.

But he didn't try to chase her down last time. He let her go.

"Why doesn't this car have a cassette player?" demands Starlord.

"Because we now only play music from our phones," Wanda replies.

Starlord goggles at her. "From your _phones?"_

"Sounds _imaginative_ , doesn't it?" Wanda keeps her eyes glued to the road. She doesn't have a driver's license, but she figures she's better off driving than anyone else.

Gamora laughs behind her. Wanda bites back a smile.

"Where will we find the Iron Man?" grunts Drax.

"T'Challa knows his schedule," Wanda answers, reciting what the king told her. "We can find him visiting a high school student. A spider man."

"A _spider_ man?" asks Rocket. "And you think me and Groot are strange?"

"He's not actually part spider. Well, maybe. He can shoot webbing from his hands," Wanda says.

In the rearview mirror, she sees Gamora and Drax exchange a look. "I guess it is pretty strange," Wanda admits.

"Thanos has been thrilled you guys had that fight," Starlord reports.

 _Great_. Her chest aches. "Hopefully Tony will listen."

"Hey, we all fight all the time," Starlord says, gesturing. "Drax tried to kill Gamora at one point."

"I tried to kill the Avengers," Wanda admits.

"See? Families try to kill each other. It all works out." Starlord leans back in his seat.

"Put your seatbelt on!" Wanda hisses. 'There's a cop up ahead—if they see you slouched like that, they'll pull us over!"

"You humans are pathetic," Drax declares as Wanda slows.

 _Dammit_. Traffic clogs the roads. "Pretty much," she agrees.

* * *

"Hey, are you Iron Man?" calls a man in a reddish jacket as he climbs out of his minivan parked along an otherwise quiet street, lined with brick apartment buildings sprayed with graffiti. The sidewalks are cracked and weeds sprout from the cement.

"I don't even know what the latest disaster is, so I have no comment," Tony says blandly. "Go away."

"No. See, I can't really. I've got to talk to you—"

 _Is this stooge for real?_ Tony whirls around, his jaw tight and aching. It cracks when he starts to talk. "I'm visiting a—someone I care about, okay? Please leave me alone. If you want an interview call my secretary."

"Now see here—" starts a second voice. "You've got no idea how many light years we traveled to be able to—"

A raccoon.

 _Oh my God._ Tony rubs his eyes, blinks once, twice. _Am I crazy?_

 _This is it. I've finally gone insane._ Either that or Wanda's back.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" calls out Peter's chipper voice as he jogs down the sidewalk. "You'll never believe what I—"

"Is this your spawn?" asks the raccoon.

 _It's talking. To me_.

Peter yelps and shoots a string of web at the animal. And chaos erupts. The minivan's doors fly open, and a green woman— _what the hell?_ —and a man bigger than Thor and more colorful than the witch leap out.

"Holy shit!" Tony's hand flies up to shoot at the mountain of a man barreling at him, while the green woman roundhouse kicks Peter to the ground. "Leave the kid alone!"

"Leave our friend alone!" bellows the journalist—or not-journalist.

"Stop, Tony!" cries Wanda, jumping onto the sidewalk.

"I _knew_ you were back!" Tony shouts. "Make your trippy visions go away?" _Am I afraid of raccoons?_ He can't remember.

"It's not a vision! We just want to talk!" Wanda yells as she rushes to wave her red magic around and remove the webbing from the raccoon, who promptly hurls a few choice words at Peter.

"Get the wicked witch of the west to let the kid go?" Tony suggests. She has Peter in a headlock.

"Gamora, it's okay," Wanda tells the woman, who lets Peter go and is rewarded with webbing tying her hands together.

"Can't trust these humans!" growls the beastly man, inches from Tony's face. Wanda quickly removes the green woman's web ties.

 _He's not wearing a costume. That's his skin_. "Did you join the circus?" Tony gasps.

"No!" Wanda glares at him. "We're here to talk. They're from space."

"Like outer space?" asks Peter, picking himself up from the sidewalk. "Like, you're an alien?" He gapes at the green woman like she's suddenly an emerald instead of an attacker.

"Last time we had to deal with aliens, it didn't go over to well," Tony responds.

"Yeah, we're the least of your problems," snaps the red-jacketed guy. "But hey, you should be impressed. Aliens have heard of Iron Man's exploits."

 _That is pretty impressive_. Tony nods.

"Maybe you've heard of me? Starlord?" He winces. "Probably not, right?"

"Not," Tony confirms. _Starlord? What kind of shit name is that?_

"Anyways, we're kind of like the space Avengers. And we've got to warn you. And talk to you. Your purple friend—"

"Vision," supplies Wanda.

"—is in danger. Which kinda means your whole city's in danger. Whole planet?"

"I am Groot," says a tree. A _tree_.

"Can we go back to your place and talk?" Wanda glances around her as if being in an open place unnerves her.

Tony hesitates, but Wanda's eyes are pleading with him even without her using any magic. He remembers Vision moping around the tower and shudders. "Only if your alien buddies promise to stop hurting everyone," he says. "Then, yeah."

"We attack when attacked," says the green woman, brushing dirt off her leather uniform.

"Yeah, well, you and Natasha would get along," Tony grumbles. "Looks like I'll have to stop by later, kid."

"But I just heard that our city might be in danger," protests Peter, jaw hanging slack. "I've got to—"

"Be home in time for Aunt May's dinner," Tony answers. "You're not coming."

"But Mr. Stark—"

"No buts."

"You had me help when you needed me to fight your friends! This sounds a lot more serious! And besides, you've got to know I can—"

"Nope kid, sorry. Say hi to your aunt for me." Tony strides away.

"If he's strong enough, he might as well come," says the green woman. "He could be needed."

"He's a goddamn kid, Elphaba," Tony retorts.

She frowns. "My name is Gamora."

"Hell, I did lots of dangerous things when I was a kid, floating through space with the Ravagers," says Starlord.

Tony pauses. Okay, if he were in Peter's shoes, he'd be desperate to come. And if what Wanda says is true… _damn_. "What if the rodent chews his face off?"

The mini-hulk lunges at Tony and clamps a hand around his throat. "Don't ever call our friend that again."

"Okay," Tony squeaks. The moment the beast lets him go and Tony can suck in air, he scowls. "Don't ever threaten me again."

"Let's just go," Wanda says, exhausted.

* * *

"Long missions are my thing," Natasha assures Bucky as they hide under an outcropping. "There's no reason to worry."

_There's never a reason to lose your cool._

_Do not let your emotions sway you._

_What kind of monster lives without feeling_? That's what they asked her. SHIELD. When she joined them and they interrogated her. Natasha never worried that she would be able to convince them she truly wanted to help them, instead of the people who raised her to be a monster.

And they still saw her that way.

 _You can't change what people think of you_. This, Natasha knows. She sees Bucky surveying the dark rocks surrounding them and knows he's wondering if Steve will understand. He's a child, still hoping for a second chance, to prove to be anything other than what he is. Natasha gave that up long ago.

"Thanos will be keeping the gauntlet close to him," Bucky says. "I know his type. He'll be obsessive."

"He might also be arrogant," Natasha says. _But if he's anywhere near as powerful as Loki described…_ she hears the screams of the tortured echoing in her mind, hurtling down her spine. She shudders.

"How do we get close?" Bucky asks.

"It'd have helped if we got more of an idea from Loki," Natasha says with a scowl.

Bucky groans. Evidently her message stung. "I know it's a bit of a fool's errand. But I don't have another choice. I didn't have one."

Natasha's head snaps up to meet his eyes. "Yes you did. You could have—"

"Stayed in that glass case? Let T'Challa work?" Bucky shakes his head. "That's no—that's not—you know, maybe it's selfish, but I want to live. I want to have a chance to be someone other than—other than what they made me, okay? Can't you understand that? Sleeping while they work on a cure they might never find isn't really living."

Natasha nods. Her heart aches.

"Didn't you ever try to—"

"I use what they made me into for my own purposes now. For SHIELD, and the Avengers." She swallows. "I'm a spy. I'm an assassin, too. If I can use those skills for a decent cause, well, it feels good." At the very last, now, she's making her own decisions. "But they didn't mess with my mind, not exactly." Not so blatantly as they did with him.

"Do you remember all of their faces?" Bucky asks her. His eyes meet hers, and she wishes she could look away.

"Many of them. Not all." _I remember yours, though._

"I remember every single one," Bucky says, looking at the dust on the ground.

She had to forget. If she remembered all of them, she'd die. Some nights, the faces she does remember strangle her in her sleep. "Did you have nightmares? When you were in Bucharest?"

He's quiet, and for a moment Natasha thinks he won't answer. Then: "Yes." He doesn't need to ask her, because they both know her question was her answer.

Bucky groans. "Sometimes I have to wonder. Why me? What made them choose me?"

The answer he's afraid of is almost certainly the right one. "They must've seen something in you. Potential."

He snorts. "To be a killer."

"To be a _soldier_ ," she corrects. His brow creases in surprise at her vehemence. "Who fights for what he believes in. Which is why they brainwashed you."

Bucky cocks his head.

 _Do you recognize me yet_?

 _No_. Natasha folds her arms. "During those years… after Washington D.C., why didn't you find Steve? Was it because you were afraid of your mind playing a game on you or—"

"No. I didn't even know that the winter soldier was still inside me. I thought—I thought once I made a choice it would be enough." Bucky clenches his fist. The other arm, the illusion, hangs unmoving.

"That's the one thing I can't do without anymore," Natasha admits. _I need to be able to choose for myself_.

And she sees something unspoken in Bucky's eyes, in the way he lowers his head so that his hair hangs over his face. _You were too ashamed to find Steve.  
_ The best friend Steve so looked up to, who protected him, who encouraged him, now a murderer and a man unmade from the inside.

_Did you think he'd reject you? Even after you saved him from the river?_

_You wanted to pretend it wasn't real, that this wasn't really you._ But it was, and Natasha wonders what it would have been like, if she'd chosen to leave and hidden. _What would it have been like to have a metal arm reminding you every day of what you were? What was it like for you?  
_

He's scared, and Natasha knows the feeling well. "You'll be okay."

He snorts. "I will?"

At least he wants to come back, Natasha thinks. _Bruce_ … God knows where he is.

"Natasha?" he asks.

A low snarl echoes behind her. Natasha whirls around to see a Chitauri flying at her. She points her arm, ready to sting, when she hears Bucky shout.

" _Let them."_

 _Take us_ , she knows. She meets his eyes, her head still echoing with the screams. _This is a pretty big risk!_

 _What other options_ _could_ _even work?_

* * *

"Please explain the street performers and the puppets," Rhodey requests as Tony leads the guardians and Wanda in. "Wanda!"

"Rhodey," she says, folding her hands behind her back. It's the first time she's seen him since his injury. He struggles to stand, but he's smiling at her, and—oh, what the hell. She steps in for a quick hug. The city view sprawls out behind the window, and Wanda remembers all the mornings she would sit and watch. Sometimes Vision joined her, sometimes Natasha.

Vision floats through the wall, his gaze lasering in on her. She glances away, focusing on the pinpricks of people below.

"You got an explanation?" Rhodey asks.

"We do," says Gamora.

"I'm surprised. You actually have kind of a nice place," comments Rocket, stroking the leather chairs with a nod of approval.

Even Vision tears his eyes away from Wanda to gawp at the creature, who smirks.

"This is from Wakanda?" Rhodey asks.

 _Oh shit_. "You know we're there?" Wanda exclaims.

"Call it an educated guess," Vision says. "We didn't _know_."

Wanda ignores him. She turns to Gamora.

"Well, we're from space. Like other planets. Although I'm originally from earth," announces Starlord. "They called me Peter Quill here. In space, they call me Starlord."

"He calls himself that," Rocket corrects.

"I'm confused," says Rhodey.

"They came to warn us," Wanda says loudly. Warmth filters in through the window, dancing on her back. She doesn't like it. It makes her feel safe, and she's not sure she is. False security. Like the night her parents exploded.

"Warn us of what?" Tony asks.

"You're in terrible danger," Gamora says, looking to Vision.

"Vision?" scoffs Tony. "Why?"

"Because Thanos wants the mind gem," says Starlord—Peter. Whatever.

"The _what_?" Tony demands.

Gamora sighs, and she and Starlord explain about the gem, about Thanos's quest to fill this infinity gauntlet, about how he's connected to Loki and the attack on New York.

"So basically this guy is like Satan," observes Rhodey.

"Pretty much," Wanda confirms. Vision just stands there, as stoic as ever, and Wanda wants to scream. _Don't you realize your life is in danger? Doesn't that matter to you? Or is that just petty humanness?_

"So my life," Vision says slowly, as if he can tell fury's bubbling within her. "Comes from a tool for destruction."

"What _can_ be used as a tool of destruction," Gamora corrects.

"He's going to come for you," Drax says. "Make no mistake about it."

"Well, he's not getting Vision," snaps Tony. "I won't allow it."

Vision glance at Tony, at Gamora, at Wanda. He doesn't respond.

"We're hatching a plan in Wakanda to take down Thanos," says Gamora. "We _need_ help. If he gets all the infinity stones, he'll wipe out the galaxy. Your world will be only the first stop."

"I have no desire to go to Wakanda," Tony says. "If T'Challa wants—"

"Because Steve's there?" Wanda asks.

"Oh, is he? I presume his friend is, too," Tony grumbles. He balls up his fists.

"Tony—" starts Rhodey.

"That bastard killed my mother, Rhodey," Tony says, shaking his head. "I can't—he deserves to—he's a monster—"

"Wait, one of the Avengers killed your mother?" asks Starlord. "Man, I would have ripped his throat out—"

"I understand your need to vengeance," Drax tells Tony, pounding his fist. "Thanos is responsible for slaughtering my wife and daughter. He got a Kree named Ronan to do it, but he's dead now. I almost killed her because of it." He jerks his head to Gamora. "But she was the wrong person to blame, so." He shrugs.

 _The wrong person to blame, indeed,_ Wanda thinks. _Should I tell him?_

"I can't—" Tony starts.

"He's not there," blurts out Wanda.

Silence falls over the room as everyone spins to look at her. "What?" Tony asks, his voice deadly serious.

"We don't know where James Barnes is," Wanda clarifies. She knots her hands up.

"He _ran?"_ Tony's eyes bug.

Wanda wishes she wasn't the one having to explain this. "We're not sure. There was something Asgardian."

"Great, so now Thor's—"

"We don't know that it was Thor either," Wanda cuts in.

"Explain. Now." Tony glares at her. She takes a step back, and his gaze softens. " _Please_."

"He just—he was asleep, in a chamber, comatose while they worked on trying to fix his mind, so he wouldn't go into flashbacks anymore and act so savage."

"He acts pretty savage even when he's not under their control. He's a monster," Tony spits.

Wanda could cry. Tony looks at her, waiting for the rest. "And then he was just gone. And Natasha is gone, too. They both vanished."

"Natasha's missing?" Vision asks.

"You should have told me this sooner!" Tony yells. "There's no telling what—"

"You'd do?" Wanda shoots back, anger surging. "You locked me in this tower. I haven't forgotten. You fought—"

"He killed my mom!"

"And you killed _my_ mom!" Wanda shouts. "It was indirect, but you still did it! Your weapons!"

Tony's face blanches. Rhodey swallows. Even Rocket is quiet. She can feel Vision's eyes on her, but she won't look at him.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him," Wanda says, her voice shaking. "I'm just asking you to protect Vision. Help us—"

"He doesn't usually need much protecting," jokes Rhodey.

"He will from Thanos," Gamora says, her voice haunted. She meets Wanda's eyes with something of respect. _For me?_

"No, that ain't all!" shouts Rocket.

"I am Groot," says Groot.

"What the hell?" yelps Rhodey. Vision cocks his head, looking amused.

"We need you guys. All of you guys. Fighting among yourselves can wait. We need the Avengers!" Starlord exclaims.

"Minus the spider boy. He can rot in hell," Rocket puts in.

Tony rolls his eyes.

"Look," Wanda says. "I risked coming back here. I did it because I believe the threat is coming. Because maybe they can help us find Natasha, too," she adds, nodding to the Guardians. "Because I know what it's like to lose someone you love, and I don't want to risk that happening to any of us."

"I can't," Tony tells her, shaking his head. "Not yet."

"We _need_ you," Wanda pleads.

"Not now." Tony hesitates. "Call me. If you are desperate. But right now I can't." He turns to Vision. "You need to go with them, though."

Wanda's jaw drops.

"But—"

"I believe them. I just can't. You should go. You have to go. I don't want your death on my conscience. And Rhodey, you—"

"I'm staying with you," Rhodey declares. "But please," he adds, looking straight at Wanda. "Keep us informed. I won't leave you if you need us."


	7. Chapter 7

Vision's hands keep drifting to his forehead, tracing the gem that gives him life, and that some kind of alien apparently wants to use to destroy the world.

They'd have to kill him first, and it disturbs Vision how much he doesn't want to die. Not in this way. If the mind gem could, say, save Wanda, save his friends, save the world—he would do it. He thinks.

_You would, wouldn't you?_

_Of course I would._

He just doesn't want to be wiped out in some bid for more death. He's always been on the side of life.

"We'll be back in Wakanda in no time," Peter Quill assures him as Vision floats onto a strange vehicle.

"They fly through space," Wanda adds with a crooked smile.

"I'm just happy to see a person on this planet who looks like us. Weird," comments the raccoon. Vision wonders about his story. _Who made you? Were you curiosity? Were you supposed to fix something, like me?_

He was created to save, and now he needs saving. _Irony_. Vision smiles.

"I try to keep it clean," Gamora says to him. "Quill seems interested only in making it—"

"Hey, shut it," Peter Quill calls. Drax grunts.

"It's very noble of you to come and warn us," Vision tells them. "I appreciate it."

"We all do," Wanda says, leaning against the wall. She fiddles with the rings on her hand. Her hair falls long and full, almost to her waist, and Vision wonders how he can feel so above humans sometimes, and wish he were one of them the very next moment.

Her eyes don't narrow at all, but they're so empty when they look at him. The friendly amusement he's used to seeing dissipates, and then it's gone completely, and this strange wave running through him—is it fear? Anxiety?

"I'll call T'Challa," Wanda says, peeling herself off the wall.

"No. I'll do it," Gamora says. "If you don't mind."

Drax collapses onto a black seat, producing a curved blade and polishing it.

 _Friends or enemies?_ Vision wonders. Aloud, he addresses Wanda: "Have you been in Wakanda the whole time?"

"You saw me just a few days ago," Wanda responds. "But aside from that mission to get Clint's family, yes. I have been. It's… nice."

"They treat you all right?" Vision can't forget the nights after the incident in Lagos, when Wanda spent nights sleepless, when she let him distract her with board games and movies, and the nights when she told him to leave her alone, bags heavy under her swollen eyes.

"They treat me well," Wanda answers. "T'Challa's kind." She shifts, and Vision wonders if she's just as uncomfortable with forgiveness as he is, because Vision can't deny that being away from Rhodey gives him relief, and he knows that's wrong, and he can't stop it.

_Why not?_

"Much better than that floating prison," Wanda adds, a bite in her tone.

"If I'd known where they'd taken you—"

"Oh, save it," Wanda says. "I was wrong, in your opinion, wasn't I? If I was wrong, why shouldn't I pay the consequences?"

"Because you were misled—"

"Stop it. I can make my own decisions, including whether or not to leave a tower," Wanda says. Her eyes flash as her fingers rise to her neck, but no red flows from them. "Do you know what they did to me there? Do you know they stabbed me with a needle, and when I woke up, I had a collar on my neck like I was an animal? Do you know that they shocked me like an errant dog when I moved in any way they deemed 'threatening?'"

"No," Vision whispers, because he doesn't know what else to say.

"Strucker treated me and Pietro better, and we were his experiments," Wanda spits.

"Didn't you volunteer?" Vision asks. He asked her why once, during those nights, and she pulled some red light from her hands and told him she didn't want to be helpless anymore.

"It doesn't matter. You don't get to pretend you weren't responsible, in some sense. Thinking you're right is not a moral high ground. Otherwise I would have been right when Pietro and I helped Ultron," Wanda says, voice trembling.

"I thought the accords would protect you," Vision tells her. Inside, he feels like something's breaking.

"I'd have to want protection for that to work. And you never even asked me," Wanda tells him. "Do you? Do you want this?" She waves her hands around the ship, at the aliens.

Vision feels smaller and weaker than he's ever felt. He nods.

"Good." She marches off.

"I _am_ Groot," says the tree, turning to watch Wanda stalk away.

"Man, she really gave it to ya," Rocket tells him. "Don't worry too much. She'll get over it."

"She might not," Vision says.

"She cares about you," Drax says. "She offered to help us, because she cares. But, she also hates you."

Vision hopes that's not true. But he's afraid—genuinely afraid.

* * *

Loki paces around his chambers. His mother and father once slept here, happy with their son and the frost giant they were trying to tame.

 _If you'd just been honest, given me the truth_ , Loki thinks bitterly. _We might not be in this situation._

He hopes Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes can actually pull this off. Wouldn't Thor laugh if he knew that his brother's only hope is now two mortals.

When Loki fell and Thanos caught him, made him scream, he survived because he knew he could beat the violet giant. They couldn't take his more formidable weapon from him: his tongue, his ability to spin words and promises to get what he wanted. An alliance to take over Midgard seemed like a tantalizing victory, until it wasn't.

_You think you know pain?_

_I know pain_ , Loki thought back then. _And what you put me through is a jest when it comes to pain._ He thought of _no Loki._

 _He will make you long for something as sweet as pain_.

And he has. Malekith—the Aether—Frigga. His mother dead because that stupid elf wanted to destroy the worlds, something Thanos would hardly have minded. And now the titan's made up his mind to do it himself, and Loki's trapped.

If only Odin had showed some gladness to see him when Thor brought him back. He could have told him. Loki scowls.

But something niggles in the back of his mind, a little voice that sounds just like his mother's, scolding him when he was a child she caught lying too many times: _you have to take responsibility for what you did. That's what kings do._

But it wasn't what Odin did. Loki sneers as he grabs a cup of mead.

The humans need to succeed. They need to. Or else he will wish for something as sweet as pain. As a king, he needs to protect Asgard, and letting Thanos wipe them out is hardly what a good king would do.

 _You are a failure_.

Loki looks in a mirror and watches as his glamor drips away, and all that's left is a blue-skinned, red-eyed beast. Himself, in his true form, and yet it never feels like it fits. He touches the table and watches ice grow.

_Cast out upon the rocks…_

Maybe Laufey was wise. His birth was a failure, and everyone could see it.

 _Not if I stop Thanos_ , Loki consoles himself. Then he will be victorious.

It's his only hope.

* * *

Natasha's arms might be tied behind her back, but the Chitauri carry small daggers, made of a strange, brown metal on their waistbands. At least, the one whose armor she's wearing does, and she's confiscated the dagger.

Bucky's eyes flit around, and she can tell he's struggling. _This was your plan. You have to stay with me,_ she thinks, knowing he can't hear her but hoping he'll interpret her glare.

His shoulders slump. _Dammit_!

Natasha spots a small crevice in the rock and jabs her foot in it, falling.

The Chitauri snarls something in its language, hitting her with a whip. Natasha clambers to her feet, bumping against Bucky. "Stay with me," she hisses.

And its like some kind of veil falls away from his eyes. He gapes at her.

Now, _you recognize me_. Natasha huffs. She doesn't have time for this, not for the memories, not for the shock on his face, none of it.

"We know that Thanos is trying to find the Infinity Stones," Natasha announces. "And so is someone else. We came to warn Thanos of him."

The Chitauri slaps her, scales burning and scraping. Natasha doesn't flinch. "We want to speak with him."

The Chitauri lets out what sounds like a guttural laugh.

" _Loki_ is trying to gather the Infinity Stones," Natasha says.

Bucky glares at her now. _What are you doing?_

 _What I always do. Playing the game_. She's a spider, she was trained to slink and unnerve and bite when no one was expecting it.

 _Trust me,_ she mouths at him, an almost laughable phrase. Except that now he remembers.

The Chitauri growl and grouse to each other, and Natasha remembers being fifteen and encountering the Winter Soldier for the first time, as Natasha and the other girls in her program hunted a doctor and his associates through a hospital.

_Beds overturned, patients screaming, nurses trying to defend the doctor, their patients, themselves. Red, everywhere. She remembers looking down and seeing it dripping from her hands._

_And when she and the others took too long, trying to spare some of the sick, they sent in the Winter Soldier. In that moment Natasha hated him, because he would cost her any glory that might have come of this, any mercy, maybe her life._

We have no need for useless spiders.

_She told her comrades to keep fighting, and she charged at the Winter Soldier to distract him._

_And then the hospital exploded, and no one would be able to take the doctor and his nurses to their new home, because everything Natasha remembers is gray dust. Natasha crawled out of the rubble, frantically trying to find Elena, the one girl she might call a friend. She couldn't move the wall, charred and smoking, pinning her friend._

_But the Winter Soldier could, and she asked him to help. Asked, even though she'd learned since the age of three not to ask, not to bother. But he helped her._

_Elena still died, and Natasha almost cried._

_She was assigned to another mission with him when she was eighteen, dressed in a skintight ball gown and pretending to be normal. She reported how to infiltrate the mansion, bypass its security. She helped the Winter Soldier capture the man in front of his screaming wife. This time, when security guards swarmed, she helped him._

Even now, Natasha still doesn't quite understand how they were assigned to work together less than a year after that. The last time she would see him until he reappeared a few years ago.

_How much do you remember?_

The Chitauri grab her arms, dragging her and grumbling. She hopes—she prays—they're taking them to Thanos.

And yet, the moment they throw her and Bucky down against onto the ground that strikes her chin, she wishes her prayers weren't answered. Fear courses through her as a floating chair turns around, and the Mad Titan grins at them with empty eyes and a tightened fist encased in gold.

* * *

"What news do you have?" Thor inquires as Sif and Heimdall burst into the small pub.

"Of your friends on earth, nothing," Heimdall responds. "There are some creatures from across the galaxy visiting, but beyond that, I don't know. Perhaps they will be able to help find your friend."

"Natasha," Thor says with a grimace.

"That's not the important part," Sif insists, gripping the table.

"It is important to him," Heimdall counters.

"But the Allfather—"

"What?" Thor asks.

"Sif told me you are both concerned," Heimdall puts in. "I, too, am disturbed by his recent behavior."

Thor's fist tightens. In some ways, he's relieved. In other way, he's anxious, because he doesn't want to have to consider what to do if—

"There are rumors that the mad Titan, Thanos, is preparing for a war," Heimdall says. "All throughout the universe, from Midgard to Vanaheim to Jotunheim, there's unrest."

"I read about him. In the books Father recommended," Thor says. _During all the times he patronized me since my return_. "Father defeated him—"

"Yes, but he's only gotten stronger since. He's building towards something, but just what, I cannot say." Heimdall gabs a container of mead. "It does appear, however, that he's stolen the Power Stone from Xandar just days ago."

Thor doesn't know where that is and doesn't care. "Have you informed the Allfather?"

"I've _tried_. He won't meet with me." Heimdall peers into Thor's eyes.

"I need to confront him. Whatever the consequences may be."

"Given his behavior of late, I wouldn't be surprised if he has you thrown in prison," Sif says.

"He will not be able to imprison me." Thor sets his jaw. "If need be, I'll do it to him."

Sif grabs her weapon, its dual blades gleaming in the candlelight. "I'll summon the Warriors Three. We're with you."

"I cannot be. I swore loyalty to my king," Heimdall says, taking another swig and then pushing the bottle away. He reaches out and grips Thor's neck. Thor's scalp prickles.

_We are all dead because of you!_

"If you become king, though, my loyalty will be with you," Heimdall says softly. He rises and strides away.

"I'll go now," Sif says. She hesitates, but there's no comfort she can offer Thor. Every piece of meat he's eaten sours in his stomach.

 _There will never be a wiser king. Or a better father_.

He still wants to believe that.

He can't.

* * *

"I have no desire to see the mortals you've dredged up," comes the dark, dank voice of the Titan. Bucky lowers his head, not wanting to meet this creature's eyes. His heart pounds and he wishes he could go out now, wishes the Winter Soldier would take over, because there's something abysmally cold about the Titan's voice. It sucks away all the hope Bucky's desperate to cling to.

Not Natasha, though. "Loki hired us to steal back your gauntlet," Natasha calls out.

Desperate. She feels it too, because she's desperate now. A suicide mission. He signed them both up for it, and she's pushing through even though it's hopeless. Like that time with her friend in the hospital, when Bucky knew she was as good as dead but something about the way the redheaded girl wouldn't give up, kept struggling to free her—it touched him.

_"What if we just disappeared?"_

Ironic, now. Bucky could almost laugh if Thanos's mere presence wasn't so devastating. _We pretty much did just disappear together_.

"Silence." Thanos drums his fingers against his throne, the sound like bullets cracking through walls. "You. You're part of the Avengers, aren't you?"

Natasha sucks in her breath.

"You could be useful," Thanos decrees. "I need another daughter with your skill set."

Bucky jerks his head up, glaring over Thanos. _Over my dead body_.

"Unless you're stupid. Tell me, what exactly were you planning on accomplishing by coming here? Surely you didn't think you could steal—"

"I hoped to barter for our safety," Natasha says quickly.

"Your world will be the first to go when I have the full gauntlet," Thanos says. The ground crunches under his feet as he leaves the chair, heading for them. "Mercy does not satisfy my mistress." He pauses, not in front of Natasha, but in front of Bucky. "You. That pathetic Asgardian prince thought you could take me on. A one-armed man, broken." He swipes his hand and erases Loki's illusion. Icy sweat soaks Bucky's hair.

Thanos grabs him by the chin. His lips curve in a cruel smile, revealing a black mouth. "A broken man, at that. You have no heart left. You're more useless now than he ever was, whatever your impressive accomplishments in serving my mistress. You have nothing to offer but twisted regrets and pathetic whimpers about getting better. I've seen your type before, soldier." Thanos's smile widens to a grin. "They never do recover." He shoves Bucky back, and his feet start to slip, but no— _no,_ Bucky refuses to let it end like this. His feet find grounding. He doesn't fall.

He glares back at the Titan, even as the words coil themselves around his mind.

"Shall I show you a preview of what will happen?" Thanos asks. He fiddles with the gauntlet, removing it and studying the purple glowing orb. "Chitauri train and train and train. They're numbers. Controlled by fear. Partners until I no longer need them."

Natasha glances at Bucky.

"Watch and see."

 _Get it_ , Natasha mouths.

Purple light.

A stream.

And then an entire group of floating asteroids-or whatever they stand on-explodes. "Mere hundreds," Thanos says wistfully.

" _Longing_ ," hisses Natasha in Russian.

 _No! What_ —

"Rusted. Seventeen. _Dawn_."

Thanos starts to laugh. "What do those words do, Avenger?"

Everything's flaming inside of him. He knows why she's doing this and yet—and yet—

Her voice shakes. "Stove. _Nine, Kind-hearted."_

The purple stone still glows from Thanos's hand. Something snaps.

* * *

"I demand to meet with the Allfather," Thor says as he approaches the throne room.

"He does not want to—" starts the Einharjar, but Thor's had it. Lightning flies from Mjolnir, striking a dozen guards down. The remainder aim their weapons at him and charge.

Steel clashes against steel as Hogun, Voltstagg, Fandral, and Sif lunge at the guards. A sword swipes, barely missing Sif's face. Thor sends that guard flying across the hall and out a window.

"Thor, go!" Sif shouts as she lashes out at another guard.

Thor slams Mjolnir against the great doors. The crash thunders through the halls.

And the doors crack open. Thor storms in. He won't fly. If there's any chance—

"What is the meaning of this?" shouts his father, surging to his feet, Gungnir clutched in his hands.

"Why haven't you been open with us about the coming threat? From Thanos?" Thor demands.

"I told you to read. I presume you read about him."

"Being indirect doesn't count!" Thor rages, a stop unplugging, unleashing a torrent. "You've directly put the Nine Realms in danger! You've put Asgard in danger! And I can't even begin to fathom why! Do you have a death wish? Take the whole Nine Realms with you, because you lost your wife and your son through your own stupidity? Don't look at me like that. If you'd been honest with Loki from the beginning, he might have turned out more stable! He might not have—"

"Stop!" bellows Odin.

"I told you you were the wisest king I ever knew! Has grief turned all that wisdom to foolishness? Have you gone mad? Thanos steals the Power Gem from Xandar or whatever it's called and you don't think that's worth _mentioning_?"

"Not to a prince who acts like this," retorts Odin coolly. "Who attacks my guards, insults his king—"

" _What options are you giving me?_ " Thor rages as Sif charges into the room, following by Fandral.

"Are you threatening me?" sneers Odin, aiming Gungnir at him.

"I don't want to fight you, Father," Thor says, his voice broken. "I want to serve the Nine Realms."

"Still a fairly new attitude for you," Odin sniffs.

"And apparently one you've forgotten," Thor retorts. His heart pounds and he feels like he's going to be sick. In all the battles he's faced, he's never felt like this. Never been this afraid, except for when Loki died.

"Get out." Odin turns away.

 _Father, please!_ But Thor can't cry it aloud, because he knows the cold response he'd receive, and he cannot let Asgard slide into death.

_No one else will die because of me. Least of all, the entire realm._

Thor hesitates for only a second before he grits his teeth and lets Mjolnir fly. Caught off guard, his father whirls around to strike at the hammer with Gungnir. Mjonir slams into the ground, but when the Allfather goes to pick it up, he can't.

Thor's throat burns. He wishes Sif weren't here, Fandral wasn't here, no one was. Mjolnir flies back into his grasp as he leaps through the air, ready to strike again.

Except something flickers, and for a moment Thor thinks he's insane. No, he's not—this is because he remembers the last time he fought Gungnir, when Loki had it.

Odin lashes out at him with Gungnir, and Thor deflects the blow, striking back. He grunts. His shoulder hurts—Odin gasps in pain— _why are you making me do this_ —

And then his hand grabs Odin's shoulder. Gungnir flies into Thor's face but it doesn't matter.

Because Loki's standing in front of him.

"No," Thor whispers, bleeding and lying on the ground. He can't get up. He doesn't want to.

" _You!"_ screams Sif, enraged.

Loki aims Gungnir at her, and Thor leaps to his feet, throwing Mjolnir at the staff and blasting it across the room. He grabs Loki's throat.

"You—the whole time—a lie—you _let me think you were dead_!"

His brother—should Thor even call him that?—gags in his grasp.

"You lied—you—" Thor's crying now, because somehow it hurts all the worse when he finds out his brother is alive, than when he thought his brother died. "You allied with Thanos, didn't you?"

Loki shakes his head.

" _Liar!"_ Thor rages. "I should—" Lightning flickers inside him, angry and powerful and deadly. "Was there some kind of deal with Thanos? To get you the throne? To destroy the realms so you could rule what's left?"

Loki's face grows purple.

"You _monster_ ," Thor seethes. "Where is Father? Where is—"

Loki's eyes roll back in his head, and Thor's grasp slackens— _what have I—_

His brother's boot collides with Thor's crotch, and even the almighty Thor is not invincible. He cries out and Loki twists, twists away, lunges for the window—Sif and Hogun, back now, chase—he's gone, he jumped, and Sif bellows instructions but they won't catch him, this Thor knows.

Just like he never could.

 _I wish you were dead,_ Thor thinks, broken-hearted.


	8. Chapter 8

"Wake up!" A hand slaps him across the face. Bucky coughs. His lungs rattle. His eyes crack open, but everything's blurred.

Red curls come into view. Natasha stares down at him, eyes wide. And etched across her face—relief?

" _You!"_ Bucky gasps. "You made me—" Horror shivers through him. _What did I do?_

"Sorry, Bucky, but I needed the Winter Soldier in the moment," Natasha says.

"Don't pretend to be sorry," Bucky grumbles, using his arm to push himself up. "You're not." People scream at him, all the screams he caused. He can't shut them out.

"No," Natasha agrees. "I'm not." She nods to the gauntlet, glinting in the light—a blue light from a blue sun. The ground seems to be covered in a silver dust, with some lights flickering in a distance. Bucky tenses, but the lights don't shift or change.

_Where the hell are we?_

"I hit you on the head as we jumped into that portal," Natasha explains. "Loki hasn't shown up yet."

He can tell she hit him. He winces. Bucky reaches for the massive gauntlet. He remembers the Power Stone exploding, grabbing Natasha and fleeing. "Thanos must've survived."

"I don't see how he could have."

"He's a Titan. Whatever that means. He survived." Bucky holds the device. You'd think there'd be something ominous about it, the same disturbing sensation scraping down his spine as when Thanos spoke. But for such a powerful weapon, it sits in his one hand.

"What do you think that?" Natasha inquires.

"If you don't see them die, you assume they didn't. Didn't they teach you that?"

Natasha brushes her hair from her face. Dried blood cakes her temple. From the explosion? A Chitauri? "Of course they did." Her eyes flash.

 _I hope you're worth it,_ Bucky thinks to the gauntlet. A giant piece of gold for his mind. Great, now he's talking to inanimate objects. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't recognize me," she says, as if that's a good enough explanation.

It isn't. "And you didn't try to remind me?" He remembers Steve pleading with him, trying not to hurt him even as Bucky threw punch after punch.

"I didn't exactly get an opportunity until now," Natasha retorts. "I was trying to capture you, or you were trying to strangle me. Doesn't leave much time for chit-chat."

_You and Agent Romanoff are very effective on your missions together._

She wasn't afraid of him back then, and he respected her for it. He felt like she respected him, didn't fear him, and it panicked him because he felt things he wasn't used to feeling.

 _I felt like a goddamn human,_ Bucky thinks now.

And they couldn't have that.

Bucky flinches as memories of pain spark inside his skull. He's a monster, a machine, not a human. He gasps.

"Bucky," Natasha says. "Are you all right?"

 _Ha_. Not when he remembers that he's a machine, not a person, and the whole reason he even fucking has the gauntlet is because he's more useful as a machine. As an assassin, a soldier with a heart of ice that beats years beyond when it should have stopped. "Why didn't you think I could do it on my own? Without you using those words?" He frowns. "How do you even _know_ those words?"

"I know they were used to recalibrate you when they thought you've acted out of line. To get you to comply," Natasha answers. She sifts her fingers through the dust.

His eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, for the—"

"How could you know that?" he shouts. _If she knows, how many other people are still out there, still prowling around with the ability to control me?_

"Because I'm trained not to forget!"

"And how could you see?" he challenges.

"Because they made me watch!" Natasha screams at him. "Don't you remember? When they thought we got along too well? When they realized that you were more of a friend to me? You were my liability, and I was yours, and they weren't going to stand for that. They broke you to fix you and they did the same for me. Except it wasn't physical at all for me. They had me from childhood. They knew how to get what they wanted—until Clint—" Her hands, balled tightly into fists, shake.

Bucky shakes his head. He sees her eyes burning and aching, and he remembers the redheaded girl staring at her dead friend, unable to cry.

"Loki might be able to cure that part of you," Natasha says. "But you're never fully whole."

He knows. But anything would be better than knowing that, at any moment, with a few simple words, he could kill the people he cares about. "Don't ever try to do that again."

Natasha hesitates. He glowers at her over his shoulder.

"I won't," she promises, a hint of irony in her voice. _What good is a promise from a liar?_

His fate is completely in the hands of _two_ liars. Bucky almost laughs. "When do you think Loki will arrive?"

"You're the one who made the deal with him," Natasha reminds him.

"No idea," Bucky says.

"I'd almost expect him to have been waiting for us," Natasha admits.

Bucky looks up at the blue sun, the strange sky.

* * *

Everyone embraces Wanda, shakes Vision's hand. The Guardians stand off to the side. Steve's not sure he'll ever get used to seeing a raccoon griping about how disgusting and weird "your people" (directed to Starlord) are.

Clint embraces Wanda, and then steps back with a somber expression. He meets Steve's eyes, and Steve knows who's on his mind, whom he's desperate to welcome back as well. _Natasha_.

_Where are you, Bucky?_

"We can't just wait around," Clint says to Steve later that night. Laura's put all the kids to sleep except for Nathaniel, whom she rocks in her arms. "I can't stand the thought of what might be happening to Nat. Or to Bucky."

"Unless Thor decides to magically appear, though, what exactly _can_ you do?" Laura asks.

"Wakanda's got all this technology," Steve says. "But none of it concerns portals or—or whatever this space travel is. The Guardians have said they can help but only if it's in this galaxy and they have a bloody location, which they don't." He rubs his face. _We've got nothing._

He's never felt so helpless. Sam puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Plus, they're kind of more focused on Thanos and Vision and the gems of doom," Clint observes.

"Would anyone on earth have any sort of insight into that kind of travel?" questions Laura.

"Eric Selvig might," Steve mutters. "And Jane Foster. But we have no idea where they are." _Because of course we don't._

"Not to mention I can't see Jane wanting anything to do with Thor," Clint grumbles. "Poor guy. Then again, poor Jane."

Laura nods. "Would Sharon know?" She looks pointedly at Steve.

"She _might_ ," Sam says carefully.

Steve's heartbeat increases. "We can't really risk her."

"Damn, you're right," says Sam sarcastically. "Would be a terrible idea to have a government agent we know is loyal to you helping us, and also maybe finding out that the entire world might be under siege from some crazy alien and his magic diamonds. If only we had, you know, someone who was small and tiny and unnoticeable to sneak in and give her a message, slash, get information from her. Damn."

Steve's stomach clamps. "Sam, I—"

"You can't always protect people," Sam informs him. "I know that's kind of your thing, but you also believe in freedom, right? Give Scott a choice and then give Sharon a choice. And you know Scott'll be thrilled to do something, and you know she'll help. And shouldn't they?"

"They should," Steve mutters even as his mind whirs. _Maybe I'm more like Tony than I thought._

"Hear, hear," Laura jokes.

"We need to do something," Clint says. "And if we can reach Thor, he might be able to help us. We can't leave Nat and Bucky alone. This is different than when Bruce went AWOL on us. He wanted to. Everything we have indicates that this wasn't—they didn't go willingly. We know Nat wouldn't have, and Bucky was supposed to be comatose."

"And he wouldn't have left. Not without... without his mind healed," Steve says. _You wouldn't have, would you?_

* * *

 _You don't stand a chance against Thanos without me, brother,_ Loki thinks sourly. He trudges through Vanaheim. Without Gungnir, he has no way of knowing if Natasha and Bucky have arrived. They better have. Loki can't wait any longer.

With his magic, to passersby he resembled an elderly woman, hunched over. He's going about that speed, at any rate. _Doesn't anyone have a horse nearby that I can steal?_ he grouses.

Thor hates him.

With good reason.

_Where is Father?_

_You won't like the answer, brother,_ Loki thinks. But in that moment, he saw fear in Thor's eyes—fear that Loki killed Odin. As powerful as Loki is, he couldn't have. Thank the Norns for the Odinsleep.

He stares at his hands. _You're weak. You're pathetic._

" _We found a body."_

" _Loki." And he waited, his breath stilted, a calm face but tension clenching over his head: will you mourn? Did you ever mourn, even the first time? Are you relieved? After all, it was only Frigga who spared him the first time, and now she's gone, too._

_Gone because of Loki's own stupidity._

_And even then the stupid Allfather wouldn't give him the peace of_ knowing _, of a goddamn answer. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped to the floor._

In truth, Loki doesn't know what he would have done if Odin mourned, if he expressed satisfaction. Try to earn his respect as a mere soldier? Turn his powers against him later? Probably the latter.

 _I killed Mother, Thor,_ Loki thinks. But that's one secret he can never, ever express. Not to Odin, not to Thor, not to anyone. It's the regret he can't shake, the one that clings to him like oil that no water can wash away.

_You might want to take the stairs to the left._

He clenches his fists, bites his lip so hard blood stings against his tongue.

_She would hate what you've become._

_She always hated what I am,_ Loki corrects.

_Has she?_

Does it matter? Odin has, and Thor has. _I am the monster parents tell their children about at night._

And now Thor knows it for certain. If he ever had any doubt about his brother's Frost Giant heritage making him a creature of pure evil, he certainly doesn't anymore. _Your conscience can rest easy, brother._

A roar shatters the air. A roar that sends prickles down Loki's skin, because it's horrifyingly familiar. He swallows.

_Puny god._

Loki staggers up a ridge and peers down to see the green beast—the one he once termed a monster—thrashing and roaring from within some sort of cage. _How did you get here_?

 _And how do you like it?_ He sneers.

"We can sell him," says one of the traders.

 _To whom?_ Loki wonders.

He doubts these pathetic Vanir traders have the Mad Titan in mind, but Thanos and his promises of pain are never far from Loki's mind. And if Thanos gets wind of the crazy beast from Midgard on Vanaheim, Loki doubts he'll be able to resist the temptation to exploit the creature.

Loki curses himself as he strides towards the group.

* * *

"Yo," Scott says as he saunters over to Vision.

"Hello," Vision says with a smile. He barely knows the man, but he'll never forget seeing him become a giant.

Vision's spent the whole day undergoing all sorts of scans and tests, all concentrating on the gem that gives him life, that some space being wants to use to steal life from others. Even now, he realizes that his fingers are trekking up to his skull, tracing the device.

He saw Wanda briefly in the morning, when T'Challa had his scientists working on him. Vision knows they're trying to help him, to save him, and yet he still felt like a project, and it shocked him how much that bothers him. He knows how he was created. He knows why. He's always _been_ a project, but a project for good.

He still isn't sure he likes it, and that terrifies him.

"So," Scott says, flopping onto the sofa across from Vision. "I just through I should let you know that Wanda and I are going on a little mission."

"What?" They've been here what, one day? "She just—"

"We need to get information from Sharon Carter about how to get in touch with Eric Selvig and Jane Foster. To find Natasha and Bucky," Scott explains. "Isn't Natasha your friend? I mean, you did fight against Bucky, so maybe you don't give a damn, but—"

"I wasn't fighting _against_ him," Vision protests. "I was trying to maintain order. I disagreed with Steve's choices. I don't have anything personal against the man. I don't take sides in that way. I simply fight for what—"

"Blah, blah, blah," says Scott, rolling his eyes. "Does that even matter, dude? Like, if you're fighting against someone, I don't think it really matters whether you have a personal tie to them or not. You're fighting against them. And anyways, for this latest mission—"

"How many missions has Wanda been on since you were all rescued?" Vision demands.

"This will be her first since rescuing _you_ ," Scott taunts. "I think… three. Yeah. Three. She _wants_ to, okay? Being locked up isn't fun. You do kind of get _ant_ sy." He wiggles his eyebrows.

Vision can only shake his head. _I was trying to protect you, Wanda_.

Except she can protect herself.

"Don't worry," Scott says. "I am going as an ant, not as a giant this time. Want to stay under the radar and all."

"Good," Vision says as Wanda strides into the room.

"Did you tell him?" she asks Scott.

"Yep." Scott leaps to his feet.

"Good. We're leaving in two hours." Wanda turns on her heel to stalk out.

"Wait!" Vision calls, floating towards her. "Wanda!"

"Yeah?" She turns around, and her eyes—they're still bitter.

"Good luck," he says.

* * *

He might have turned back into a man, but Loki is not letting that beast out of his cage.

Judging from the rage and shock in Bruce Banner's expression, he made the right call.

"You! What the hell—" He grapples for a blanket and ties it around his waist.

"I believe I just rescued you from some Vanirs who wanted to trade you as a spectacle," Loki replies, crossing his arms and leaning back against a stone.

"You probably arranged that," snaps Bruce.

"You're not that important," Loki returns.

"Yeah? If you say you were helping me, prove it. Let me out of this damn cage." Bruce rattles the bars.

"No."

Bruce smirks. "That's one of the moments I really wish I could remember. Smashing you around like a rag doll."

"If you were aiming to convince me to set you free, that was probably not the words you wanted to say," Loki retorts, standing and stretching. Bruce's eyes narrow and Loki smirks.

"Where am I?"

"Vanaheim." Loki drops back down. "Another of the Nine Realms. Which, I must say, Doctor Banner, is quite impressive. I didn't think you were up to that level of intelligence, to figure out how to leave Midgard."

Bruce drags his hands through his hair. "I don't think I did."

"What?" Loki bites his tongue again. _Dammit_. He needs to figure out how Bruce got to Vanaheim, whether it was through some sort of portal or—

"I was flying—" Bruce sighs. "Until I ran out of gas."

"Not smart enough to pack enough?" Loki can't resist asking.

"It wasn't a planned flight, and I didn't care," Bruce tells him. Loki almost drops the pebble he's been fiddling with.

_Were you suicidal?_

"And then something opened up, and I was in—a different place, not like this. It was black and ashy—"

Loki remembers Svartalfheim.

"And then—there are all these things I don't remember, times the Hulk was me and times I was me—I can't keep things straight. And then these guys showed up, and I worked for them."

"Worked for them?" Loki's jaw drops. If they were Bruce's friends, that would be just his luck.

"Fought for them. As a champion. When they induced the Hulk." Bruce almost laughs. "They weren't kind."

 _Thank the Norns_.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Bruce demands. "Thor told us—"

"Were you relieved to hear it? Loki, stabbed by a monster?" he snorts.

"I might have been, but your brother was sad. Jane made me recommend counselors, but he never went. And you were just tricking—" Bruce clutches the bars, his knuckles whitening and eyes widening. Loki jumps to his feet. "Scared you?"

Loki narrows his eyes. "Well, it's your lucky day. If you want to return to Midgard, I can get you back there. So long as you try to figure out precisely where that portal was you went through."

"I don't have the plane—"

"I don't care. If you want to go back, you'll figure it out, and we'll meet again." Loki hopes. "That's all I'd ask of you."

"I'd really rather not invite you back to our planet."

Loki rolls his eyes. Somewhere, some kind of bird sings. "I can get there any time I want. I just don't want, generally. Except I need to know where this portal is, but it's not for my usage."

Bruce laughs. "Oh for crying out, you can't expect me to believe the oldest excuse in the book—"

"You'll believe Natasha, won't you?" Loki asks. Bruce's face slackens. "Because she's nearby. I'm on my way to meet up with her right now. She ran a mission for me—her and Bucky Barnes, your righteous Captain's dearest old friend—and once they give me what I want, I'm sending them back to earth."

"You kidnapped them!"

"On what information are you basing this assessment?"

"Your previous behavior!"

"I didn't!" Loki snarls. "Calm yourself, Banner. Or else I'll leave you and that foul beast you turn into here to starve in a cage."

"Still wouldn't kill me," Bruce snaps.

 _So you_ weren't _trying to kill yourself?_ Loki wonders.

"I wouldn't want to see her, anyways," Bruce says.

"Why not?" Loki watches as Bruce's lips twitch and his eyes skitter around. _Were you in love with her?_

"None of your business. If you plan on just leaving me here, go ahead. The Hulk will figure a way out. Somehow."

"Leaving a rampaging Hulk isn't an option," Loki informs him. _Not when Thanos is scouring the Nine Realms for allies, and for me._

"So you're gonna try to kill me? Good luck," Bruce says.

Loki grabs the cage bars. "You're not that lucky." He closes his eyes and wipes his glamor off. "I surrender, Heimdall."

"What?" Bruce starts to yell, as Loki watches from a nearby ridge as a beam of light swallows up his likeness, and Bruce's.

"Say hi to Thor for me," Loki grumbles as he darts away. He needs to get off this Realm and to Natasha and Bucky as soon as he can, before Thor sends the Einharjar to scour Vanaheim.

* * *

Instead of his brother appearing through the Bifrost, Thor hears a roar.

And there's a cage, and a very green, very angry Hulk.

"Stop!" Thor bellows at the Warriors Three, who all aim their axes and swords at him. "He's my friend!"

_What the hell is he doing here?_


	9. Chapter 9

"How did you get here?" Thor bursts out once Bruce is back in the palace.

"We'll keep looking for him. You talk to your friend," Voltstagg had grumbled, before Heimdall sent him, Hogun, and Fandral to Vanaheim.

They need to find Loki to find Odin. _You didn't kill him, Loki, did you?_ Thor wonders. He doesn't want to believe Loki's capable of that.

_Why? Why not? He's betrayed you in every way. Of course, that's what you thought before, and as it turns out there were new ways to betray you._

"Your brother," Bruce says. "He—"

"But how did you get to Vanaheim?"

Bruce explains about flying in the plane, about suddenly being whipped into the air—not the air, but in-between time and space and who knows what—and encountering the Vanir.

"That's terrible," Sif says with a scowl. She offers Bruce a cup of mead. He accepts with a shrug and a sad, dazed smile.

"Don't think we've met," Bruce manages after swallowing three gulps of mead. "I'm Bruce. Banner. I'm a doctor from earth."

"Midgard," Thor translates. "He's the Hulk."

"I'm Sif," she says. "You are the one who defeated Loki, aren't you?"

"Well, the Hulk did." Bruce shrugs.

Sif frowns. Her dark tresses spill over her shoulders. "You're the same person, yes?"

"I don't know if I would _quite_ call the Hulk a person." Bruce laughs, but there's no joy in it. It reminds Thor of Loki's laughs after he was captured in New York—or maybe his laughs for years before that. Thor wonders what his brother's laugh—his real laugh, unscratched by bitterness, sounds like.

"The Hulk saved New York," Thor says. " _You_ saved New York."

"And I killed how many people when we were fighting Ultron?" Bruce drinks more of the mead. "I can't face them. Natasha keeps hoping—she hoped so much, and it was impossible. I can't be a hero no matter how hard I try."

"Heroes make mistakes," Sif says. "Thor use to be a bit of a boorish brute. He's started wars over petty things. And yet he was always a hero."

"That's admirable you think that, Sif, but I wasn't," Thor says. _If I'd been less of a boorish brute, maybe Loki_ … no. He won't tread that road tonight.

You _did this, Loki._ His fist tightens around the golden goblet in his hands. A fire crackles in the fireplace.

"Yeah, but when I go to earth people are afraid of me. For good reason, and yet it's also for something I can't control," Bruce mutters. "Like, Thor, no offense, but when you were starting wars, you had control of yourself. You could choose. When you can't choose when you're going to be yourself and when you're going to be a green rampaging monster, when it's been—embedded into you, and you can't get it out because it _is_ a part of who you are even if you like to pretend it's not so you can have one moment of happiness, but you can never _really_ forget—it's like torture. There are people screaming at you constantly and the loudest one screaming is yourself." Bruce drinks more. "Natasha was the only one who thought there was a chance—but even then, I can't—I could have hurt her."

_When I'm king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!_

The mead sloshes around in Thor's stomach, stinging and burning. _What have I done?_

_Why didn't you say anything, Father? Why did you let me grow up that way?_

"Thor, I can tell you're thinking—" Sif starts.

"Would we have accepted him?" Thor wonders aloud. "As a Frost Giant?"

"Loki's a terrible person. Being. Not just because of his heritage," Bruce says. He pauses and glances around the room, the towering ceilings and glow of the golden city below as if reconsidering. After all, Loki sent him here, when he could have sent him anywhere. To Thanos, even.

"You're not a monster," Thor says. "I know you won't listen to me, or believe me. But you're not."

* * *

"Look who's here," Natasha says as Loki trudges through the dust—sand?—to them.

"You succeeded," Loki states, staring at the weapon next to Bucky. "How?"

"It doesn't matter," Bucky says quickly, getting to his feet.

"I ran into a friend of yours," Loki says to Natasha.

Her pulse spikes. "Who?"

"A green monster." Loki's lips curve as he watches Natasha's nostrils flare.

"Bruce is here?"

"I sent him to Asgard," Loki tells her. "I offered to let him come with us, but he refused."

"Wonder why," Natasha snaps.

"Don't blame me for that." Loki crosses his arms. "He doesn't seem particularly eager to return to Earth."

 _Bruce, why_? Natasha turns away from Loki's smirk and Bucky quizzical look. "Was he okay?"

"Some Vanirs had found him and it seems were making a spectacle of him."

Natasha whirls around. "What?"

"They won't be bothering him again, let's put it like that." Loki leans back.

 _You helped him. Why? What do you want?_ Natasha wonders.

"He still seemed to think it a better option than Earth," Loki adds.

 _I'm a monster._ She'd said it, and he believed it more than she did. Every second, every breath, every step he took he took believing that he was a monster, afraid of what he could do. And nothing can convince him otherwise. Natasha could scream.

"Natasha?" prompts Loki.

"He thinks he's a monster _." Funny how the ones who actually are monsters don't recognize it._

Bucky studies his feet. He lifts his head and meets her eyes with sympathy.

"All of us are," Loki says.

Natasha isn't often surprised, but now her jaw drops. "Did I just hear you admit that you're a monster?" she asks.

"Have you heard of Jutunheim?"

"No," Bucky says.

Natasha swallows. "Thor may have mentioned it. You're from there."

Loki laughs, a sharp sound that lacerates the air. He closes his eyes and his pale skin melts away, replaced with blue. His eyes glow red, and when he reaches to touch the dust, ice coats it.

And then it's gone, and he's back to being the monster she recognizes.

"Most Jutuns are tall. Frost Giants, the Aesir call them," Loki says. "Odin found me cast out upon a rock to die, because I was a runt. He took me in to use me as a pawn to broker peace. I have no desire to be a pawn in his game, though. I never have." He looks at Bucky, at Natasha. "You were made into monsters, but I was born one."

"Bullshit," says Natasha.

Bucky's eyebrows fly up.

"Bullshit," she says again. "You have choices, don't you?"

"I do. Which is why I'm not Odin's pawn of a son anymore. Not that he ever truly considered me his," Loki grumbles.

 _Daddy issues?_ Natasha wants to scream. "Bucky and I had no choice. When we tried to make different ones, we were punished."

Loki cocks his head, studying her with his green eyes and with no smirk, no one raised eyebrow. Natasha flinches.

"I thought Bruce and I could help heal each other," Natasha says aloud. "That was all bullshit, too. He doesn't want to get better. Neither do you," she adds to Loki. "But I do. And he does." She points to Bucky. "So since he's upheld his end of the bargain, you better heal his mind."

"We might need to break into Asgard to do it," Loki admits in a small voice. "I lost Gungnir. The staff," he clarifies.

"Thor found you out," Natasha states.

"Well, yes."

"You son of a—" Bucky lunges at him, but he swipes through a mirage. Loki appears next to Natasha. She jumps.

"I'm not breaking my word!" Loki shouts at him. "Not this time. I will break into Asgard and I will fix your mind. Okay?"

"How long is this going to take?" Natasha asks.

* * *

"I believe I know where the Allfather is," Heimdall informs them, the door closing behind him with an ominous clash.

"What?" Sif leaps to her feet immediately, despite the fact that she was just dozing on the chaise. Thor's afraid to get his hopes up.

"Alive," Heimdall adds. "If what I'm seeing is correct." He looks towards the windows, shining with the brightness of day.

 _We all doubt ourselves_ , Thor knows. He studies his hammer—he can lift it, can't he? He's worthy.

Of what? What kind of worthiness involves being tricked multiple times by a deceptive brother, leaving his father to the mercy of an evil man. Because that's what Loki is.

_He is your brother!_

_Not now, Mother._ Thor squeezes his eyes shut.

"Is it ever wrong?" quips Voltstagg.

"It was wrong for years," Heimdall retorts, his words an arrow he's shooting into his own flesh.

"Your father?" Bruce inquires.

Thor nods. The embers still glow from the fire last night, but a chill permeates the room. The sun shines, but its light is empty.

"He's in New York," Heimdall adds.

Of course he is. "I can't picture Father content to—"

"He's not in his right mind, I don't think," Heimdall adds.

Thor's face burns. Bruce tenses and Thor reminds himself to bloody relax. He doesn't want to jump-start the Hulk.

"Thor," Sif says. "We'll find your father. He'll be all right."

"And we'll find Loki," Fandral says cheerfully, perching himself on the edge of Sif's red lounge. "And by the time we're done, he won't be all right."

"He already left Vanaheim and hides well," grunts Hogun, leaning against a pillar.

"Thanks for the positivity," grumbles Fandral.

"If we find him," Voltstagg says. "You do want us to kill him, don't you?"

 _No_.

No, Thor's never wanted his brother dead. But he is king now, acting as king at least, even without a coronation, without any glory. He's king because no one else can be, king because his brother betrayed their father a second time.

_Mother would weep if she could see this._

_What would your father do?_

Sif looks expectantly at him, and Bruce rubs his chin, refusing to meet Thor's eyes. _It was your world he attacked; don't you at least owe me your opinion?_ Does Thor want his opinion?

"Yes," he says. "Kill him."

Heimdall looks at him with golden eyes, unreadable.

_We are all dead because of you._

This time, it's Loki's voice rasping in Thor's mind. He starts.

"Are you okay?" Sif asks in alarm.

"I am fine." Thor calls Mjonir to his fist. "We need to go." He looks to Sif.

"You want me to come with you?"

"Of course," Thor says, his stomach tingling. Of course he does. He needs her steady presence.

"I'll just stay here?" Bruce says, grimacing as if he expects Thor to contradict him.

Which he does. "No. You need to come, too."

"There's no way I'm walking around a city right now." Bruce's face tightens.

"We'll protect you," Sif assures him.

"If you're just coming back here—"

"I don't know that we are," Thor says. "At least not right away. Heimdall, in that case, I place you in temporary charge of Asgard."

"My prince—"

"Thanos is coming," Thor says. "Banner, you need to come with us."

"Does he collect pet monsters?" Bruce snaps.

"I'm afraid it's not a joke. Especially with Loki on the loose—we don't know what defensive secrets he may have given the mad Titan. But if I had to bet on anything, Thanos would be afraid of you. If you come with us, you might be able to help keep us safe."

"It might help to visit your friends," Sif suggests. "The Avengers."

 _I thought you didn't think much of mortal fighters_. "We shall see."

"If I go with you," Bruce says, voice trembling. "You can't let me hulk out, and you can't guarantee—"

"You won't," Sif tells him, clenching her double-edged sword.

"I'll hit you with Mjolnir and send you out of the city," Thor informs him.

Bruce rolls his eyes. "And what if you can't—"

"Bruce," Thor says, using his friend's given name. "You are in my kingdom, and I am—" He swallows, catching Sif's glowing eyes and nod, Heimdall's stoic respect. "I am the king of Asgard. You are coming with me."

"Hear, hear," Fandral cheers. Voltstagg laughs, a joyful sound. Thor still feels weights latched to his neck.

"Are you for real pulling rank right now?" Bruce asks, agape.

"I suppose so." Thor shrugs. He tightens his grip on Mjolnir _. I'll prove myself worthy, Father—of the kingdom, of you. I'll find you_. "Let's go."

* * *

"You," snaps Natasha as Loki uses his illusions to create the appearance of some kind of rose-gold currency. The dwarf running the inn accepts it without a second thought. "Are—"

"What, shameless?" Loki retorts. "I got us a room at this inn. "We can plan how to get into Asgard from here."

"You're actually asking me to fight my friend," Natasha states, her voice strained. Bucky glances at her and sees her worrying her lip between her teeth. She, the only friend he ever had when he was the Winter Soldier—she still thinks she deserves friends. Or at least she accepts them. Bucky admires that, because the only friend he can accept is Steve. Natasha's only helping him for Steve. He knows it, and his fingertips twinge.

"You've already done that, haven't you?" Loki answers as he unlocks a small room with a damp odor. Bucky wrinkles his nose. "Over him?" He nods at Bucky,

 _Over me and my screwed up mind._ Bucky studies his hands and wonders why they aren't painted red, a permanent stain.

"Only when necessary," Natasha says, crossing her arms. She kicks the door shut behind her. One small window lets in a gray light.

"How is this not necessary?" Loki questions.

"Because you do have other options. You can go to Thor and confess to him what you've done. He'll let you heal—"

"He won't let me touch Gungnir again, and for good reason," Loki snaps, dropping onto the filthy looking bed.

Natahs'a eyebrows rise. "First time I ever heard you admit you may deserve some of your fate."

"Deserving doesn't equal wanting, spider. I don't want to die. And Thor will kill me on the spot. There won't be time to hear me out."

Natasha shakes her head, meeting Bucky's eyes. "Thor is like Steve. He'll never give up on you, for better or for worse."

"I killed our mother and sent our father to a miserable existence on your planet," Loki replies. "And I don't even have brainwashing to blame for it. Unless you want to blame the Allfather's lying to me about my birth for years, using me as a tool."

Natasha's face pales. _You've killed friends,_ Bucky thinks. He knows she has.

"Oh yes," Loki says. Bucky jerks when he realizes Loki's addressing him. "I know what it's like to be a tool, too."

"Poor you," Bucky spits. _You don't know, you don't know._

"Don't compare yourself to him," Natasha says, stepping forward. Bucky hears Steve's confidence, Steve's idealism, in her voice and doesn't understand how it's there, how it's growing, when he's done nothing but trample on it. "You don't even have the decency to feel any regret."

Bucky tenses, anticipating Loki lashing out. Instead, the man studies his fingers. "What good has your regret ever done you?"

"It's kept me from becoming you," Bucky says, watching as Loki still refuses to meet his eyes. Blood floods his cheeks as he takes in Loki's hunched shoulders, hears hi arrogant declarations reverberating in his mind. "I don't want to be you."

"And what am I, exactly?" Loki asks, looking at him now. And something glints in his eyes—eagerness, fury, and terror. Bucky's seen terror in so many faces, and they're all flashing before him right now, one after another, the blond woman, the man choking on his favorite dinner—

 _No._ He inhales, the air scraping against the back of his throat. "Not a hero."

"A monster?" Loki prompts. Natasha smirks.

"It's eating you up. You feel it," Bucky says. "Don't you? Or maybe not. You don't see their faces. For me, it was up close most of the time. You… you let the Chitauri handle it."

Loki's already pallid face grows ashen.

"It doesn't matter that they tore up their mind and put whatever they wanted in it. All that matters to their families is that _I did it_ , and they can't ever—they couldn't—and _I_ can't."

"Then why not offer yourself up for justice?" Loki queries. "Like she suggests I do."

Bucky feels Natasha's gaze boring into him. _Your hero was a monster._ "Because I want to live."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Try."

"I don't _know!"_ Bucky yells. "Maybe because—because—I want to be something—I want—I don't want Steve to think—" He grapples and he can't nail it down. Maybe he's afraid to.

"You want to be something different," Natasha says quietly. "Someone better. You want to atone."

"But you can't go back, or erase anything," Loki counters. "So what's the point?"

"I don't know," Bucky tells him. "I just—I hope there is one. In the end."

"You have hope," Loki says. "There's no hope for me."

* * *

"People are looking at me strangely," Sif says, her eyes wide. "Thor, the last time we were here, I never envisioned—"

"New York's quite majestic, isn't it?" Thor says as he strolls through the streets. Bruce keeps his head down, his body wrapped in a cloak Volstagg leant him. He could never pass for an Asgardian in Asgard, but these earthlings don't know the difference.

"What's that?" Sif asks in awe as they pass a pretzel vendor. The scent of buttery and salted goodness hits Thor's nose.

"First we find my father," Thor says. " _Then_ we get pretzels."

"You know how many millions of people there are in this city?" Bruce grumbles.

"Heimdall said he'd be in the garden," Thor says, peering at each and every face that passes—or at least as many as he can see.

"Park," Bruce corrects.

Thor remembers the last time he was here, when he and Loki went home, how Loki refused to look their father in the eye even as Father peered at his son with fury and with fear. Father ordered the Einharjar to keep his muzzle in place until they reached the cells, and Thor remembers seeing Loki flinch ever so slightly.

His fingers find the place in his side that Loki had stabbed. And still, Thor believed in him, gave him another chance. For nothing.

"We could split up," Sif suggests as she passes under the shade of a tree. Three children skip along the path, giggling. Pigeons peck at the ground near a puddle. A street preacher rants and raves. Thor remembers the times he hunted in his youth, when Loki insisted they shouldn't hurt the birds and everyone laughed at him. _"That one's strange, that's for sure,"_ Fandral's father had said.

 _Now, you've killed worse than birds. Children_.

" _What kind of message are you sending?"_ Thor recalls Mother scolding Father as he and Loki eavesdropped on their parents from behind a tapestry, Loki hiding his face. Thor, who laughed earlier, clutched his brother's shoulder.

He shudders.

"Or not," says Bruce, drawing up. Thor stops and follows the doctor's gaze.

The street preacher, dressed in bedraggled, filth-slimed clothing, rants at the sky. "He's coming!" His white hair explodes from his head, wiry and frazzled, and his arms, visible through torn sleeves, hang flabby and weak.

 _No_. There's nothing in Thor's stomach, but it lurches and bile claws at his throat, tearing it raw.

"My king," Sif whispers. There's no disgust, no condemnation in her eyes. Bruce's jaw hangs in utter shock.

"Father!" Thor races towards him.

"Get away from me!" Odin bats his son away. "The apocalypse will come for us all; devour—"

"Can you stop!" snaps a middle-aged woman, clutching her daughter's hand. "You're frightening my child. Especially after the attack—"

"My apologies," Thor stammers. If the woman recognizes him, she doesn't show it. She hmphs and stalks off. " _Father_ ," he hisses, grabbing the man again. "Odin—"

"What are you doing here? You're a traitor! You're all traitors!" Odin bellows.

"I'm not! I'm you son!" Thor tries to keep his volume to a minimum, but he wants to scream, rave at the skies, send Mjolnir through Loki's face.

"Odin, my king," Sif says, reaching for him.

"I thought you were king," Bruce comments.

"Not helping!" Sif hisses.

"Get away from me!" Odin howls as Thor tries to wrangle his father.

"Can't we talk?" Thor shouts.

"Liars! Traitors! You're the cause of all this!" Odin's eyes flash towards the sky, roll around and swing back towards Thor. They're unhinged. They're not the eyes of the man he admires.

"Father!"

"Go to hell!" Odin pushes him and staggers off, tripping over a stone and plummeting towards the ground. A group of teenagers laugh as they ride their skateboards by. Thor's face burns.

Rage leaves him as quickly as it enters him. He drops to his knees, reaching out to help his father up. "Father, it's me," he pleads. "It's your son. It's Thor."

Odin squints at him.

"Thor," Sif says. "I don't think these people are friendly."

Sirens scream around them as police roar up in black SUVs and squad cars.

* * *

Loki disguises himself as a woman with gray hair as he retrieves some bread, dried meat, and ale for them. Hiding out in Nornheim. Thor will be here, him and his friends, Loki's old friends, soon enough. Loki hopes to be gone by then.

He could just abandon the spider woman and the soldier. But no. He promised.

Loki's always dealt in lies, but he's seen too much in Bucky's eyes. Regret. The ghosts that whisper with every step he takes. The difference is, Loki blocks them out.

The Winter Soldier would certainly be a decent ally in the war to come, but without his mind, Loki's not sure he could trust Bucky.

He pauses outside the inn's door, hearing murmuring voices. He can see them through the crack.

"I can't go back to earth without my mind. I couldn't face Steve."

"He wouldn't judge—"

Natasha. _Doesn't she know better?_ Loki wonders. _Why try to hope?_ Although she might be right. He scowls. That soldier, like his brother, is a fool. A kind fool.

 _If we meet again, Thor, don't be kind,_ Loki thinks. _But don't be cruel, either_. He can handle a quick killing blow. He cannot handle another trial, followed by the axe. He still remembers his mother when Thor dragged him back in chains. She _ran_ to him, calling out his name, and he couldn't look at her as Odin ordered him thrown in prison.

_You will never see her again._

Loki believed Odin for that hour, like the fool he is, so gullible. Until Mother showed up in his cell, and he knew it was her but couldn't look at her. Not until he could be angry, could lash out with his tongue.

All she said was " _I love you."_

He waited until she left to cry. And even then, he illusioned his tears, in case Heimdall was watching. Now, he wonders if she knew he cried.

Bucky snorts. "Maybe that's why they picked me. My brain's easily misled. I don't—"

"You don't know that that's true."

"Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But I don't want anyone thinking it."

 _That_ , Loki relates to. He might be weak, but he'll keep running and fighting until he dies. He will not give in. _I didn't deserve to be cast out on the rocks, Laufey._

"People don't think much of me."

"It bothers you, though," Bucky says. The woman's red hair whips around as she turns to stare at him.

 _Does it?_ Loki wonders.

"I can tell," Bucky mutters. Their shoulders touch, hers connected to an arm, his devoid of one.

"Do you remember what made them discipline us?" Natasha asks. "When they—"

Bucky laughs. "We were becoming friends. They couldn't have that. Attachments—"

"Not quite." Natasha leans closer. Loki's eyebrows clamp together. "Let me show you." Her hand cups the back of his head, and Loki can only imagine that they're kissing.

_What in the Norns—_

"What are you doing?" Bucky gasps, jerking away from her. "I'm—"

 _To go in or not to go in?_ Loki wonders.

"Not to me," Natasha says quietly.

Loki smiles, and for the first time since he was a child laughing with his mother, enthralled by watching her perform some magic—he didn't even have to learn it; he was content to merely sit in awe, there isn't something cynical lurking beneath the surface.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a day early, as tomorrow I won't be able to!

"Put your weapons down!" shouts one of the policemen. Thor's still crouched, his arm around Odin. Sif's drawn her blade, stepping in front of Bruce, who glares at Thor as if saying _send me out of this city before I break it._

"I have no weapons," Thor replies. Sif doesn't flinch.

"What about that hammer?"

"Are you treating me as a criminal?" Thor retorts, the sun beating down on him as he takes in a rather large van. Bruce's face turns green, and not from rage. _What will they do to you if I surrender?_ "After all I've done for your—"

"You disappeared. You—"

"I'm not a citizen of your world!" Thor bellows. Screams of terrified people echo around them. _I won't hurt you!_ he wants to cry.

"We only want to talk," says the policeman. "Debrief. You and Banner will be fine. And the woman and the man too." His face is so young, so earnest—it reminds Thor of Fandral. Thor's panic lessens.

He nods to Sif, who lowers her blade with a scowl.

"Liars!" Odin rages, staggering to his feet. "You're all—"

"Father—" Thor tries, reaching for him.

"Liars and—cowards—good for nothing—you're all bringing death; it's your fault death is coming!" Odin rants. He shakes his fist at the sky.

" _Death?"_ shouts the policeman. Bruce backs away.

"Taze him," says a woman. "Take him down."

"No!" Thor leaps in front of his father, blocking the shot with his hammer. Bruce moans.

"It's okay," Sif shouts over her shoulder to him even as she aims her blade again.

"Put them down, or we'll have no choice but to shoot—"

"No, you put 'em down," comes a voice from above them. _Tony_. Thor's reputation might be as a god, but in this moment, he could sing praises to his friend. "Dude's just trying to get his dad."

"We're under orders to take in both Thor and Banner for questioning," reports the woman officer.

"Yeah, Banner doesn't look too good," Rhodey answers, hovering next to Tony.

"Your friends?" Sif gapes.

"That's exactly why we need to—"

"Mm, nope, don't think you do," Tony answers. "He's about to blow, can't you tell?"

Bruce stumbles back, looking around him in desperation.

"Bruce—" starts Sif.

"I think we'll take him to Stark Tower," Rhodey says. "Calm him down. Then you guys can talk."

"Those aren't the conditions of the accords you all signed," snaps the woman.

"Think of it as upholding the spirit but not the letter of the accords," Tony answers. "Thor, get a handle on your old man. Banner, you're with me. Rhodey, take Xena."

"Sorry, Father," Thor says, grabbing the man by his waist. Odin howls and kicks at him, but Thor soars towards the Avengers tower. Odin kicks him in the shin, knees him in the groin. Thor groans. _Don't drop your father._

He collapses on the landing balcony, releasing Odin and rolling over. Tony and Rhodey touch down with Bruce, who staggers towards the edge, and Sif, who looks thrilled with her flying experience.

"They're going to come for you," Thor croaks out.

"It'll be fine," Tony says. "So that's where you've been, Banner? Hanging out in Asgard?"

"Asgard!" rages Odin, thrusting a fist up in the air.

"Father." Thor drags himself to his feet, stumbling over.

"What's the deal with him?" asks Tony.

"Loki was—pretending to be him. He sent him to earth—" To live homeless and alone. Because his brother is a monster. A Frost Giant and a monster.

_Did you make him one?_

Thor clenches his fists.

"Uh, okay," Tony says.

"We haven't met. I'm Rhodey."

"Sif," answers the warrior. "How are you doing, Bruce?"

He gives a weak thumbs-up. The green lessens from his face, but his eyes still scream in fear. _What could have happened?_

"Where's everyone else?" Thor croaks out, watching as Rhodey climbs out of his suit and grabs a cane, stumbling. "What happened?"

Tony shakes his head, biting his lip. "You missed a lot. Did you ever find out what those visions meant?"

Thor shakes his head.

"Maybe you did," Sif says. "Maybe it was related to Loki. By coming back, you stopped—"

"Or Thanos," Thor says.

"Thanos? Second time I've heard that name, and this time from a far more reliable source," Tony says. "We gotta talk."

"Loki," groans Odin.

"Loki did this to you, Father," Thor says, gripping his father's hands. Odin doesn't pull away this time. He looks at Thor with a half-smile as he starts to wilt in his arms.

"Loki," Odin repeats, looking up at the sun. "I miss him. He was… so smart."

* * *

"They're back!" Steve calls, sticking his head in Vision's room as he races down the hallway.

Vision closes the book he's been reading, authored by Jane Foster. Her research is truly remarkable. And yet he doesn't want to leave this room with its drawn drapes keeping out the brilliant Wakandan sunlight, doesn't want to meet the astrophysicist who devoted her life to researching other dimensions.

 _Is this what depression feels like?_ Vision wonders.

He remembers Wanda sitting in her room after the disaster in Nigeria. How she poured over the names, read statements from their families, looked them up on social media just to see who they were, the people she'd inadvertently killed. How she didn't sleep, how she grieved.

What will he do if Thanos comes for him? His friends won't let him turn himself over. He knows he should consider them foolish for that. But he's grateful. He doesn't want to die.

He doesn't want anyone else to die, either. And they're all at risk because of him.

Vision hesitates, and settles back down to read more, ignoring the chaotic voices chattering down the hall. He recognizes Wanda's, Scott's.

"Hey," says her voice from his doorway.

"I take it you were successful," Vision says as he rises, placing the book back down on the table.

"Jane's here. And Eric Selvig. They'll want to see you soon. Jane wants to run some tests on the mind stone," Wanda tells him, wrinkling her nose. "She claims she'll keep it perfectly safe." She steps closer to him, into the dusky room. He sees the questions in her eyes, but she won't voice them.

"All right." He doesn't have a choice.

"She wants to get settled first, though. Eric also thinks they'll be able to find some clues for where Natasha and Bucky might be. Clint's excited," Wanda informs him.

"Good." Vision fingers with the edge of the book, pressing his thumbs against the sharp corners.

"It's okay to be frightened," Wanda says. "I am."

Vision turns to her. Shadows line her eyes, no doubt because of all the missions she's been driving herself into the dirt for lately. Her red jacket's crinkled, and her shirt's half tucked and half untucked. "You're human, though."

"What are you?" she asks, crossing her arms.

"I don't even know," he admits, tapping the glowing gem in his skull. _And_ that _scares me._

"You're not a monster," Wanda says, tapping her fingers. "If anything, you're—you're safeguarding the gem. That stone. Using it to protect life, create life from it, not death."

Vision snorts. _Was this how pathetic my attempts sounded?_ When he tried to comfort her after Nigeria?

If so, he's sorry. So, so sorry.

"Vis," Wanda says, stepping closer still and putting her hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. Thanos isn't going to find you."

He shakes his head. "You can't guarantee that."

"If he does, I'll tear him apart," Wanda tells him, red glowing in her eyes, in her fingertips.

"I just feel like—like I'm the one who's supposed to know what's right, what's wrong, how to fix things. Instead I'm just finding that I'm flawed, I'm full of mistakes—what if Thanos gets me, or I make mistakes on my own and turn out more like Ultron than—"

"You _won't_ ," Wanda snaps. "You're—you're more human than you thought. That's a good thing." She smirks. "I prefer a humanized you as opposed to a holier-than-thou you."

Vision cracks a smile. "Have you forgiven me?"

"For now," she acknowledges. And her hands reach up, pulling his head down, and before Vision realizes what's happening, her lips are on his and he's catapulted into a world with just feelings—her mouth embracing his, her hand caressing the back of his head, something light and glowing and alive inside his chest. And he wants to believe her. All of the things she's said. _I believe_ , because he has to, because she's here and he can.

 _I love you,_ he thinks as they pull apart. She's smiling, her eyes sparkling and he wants to see her happy more. _If this is part of humanity, it can't be all bad._ Maybe the mistakes even out with the joys.

He leans in to kiss her again.

* * *

Thor did not expect to see Jane when the six of them land in Wakanda, but Jane is exactly who he sees, crouched on the ground next to Clint, a woman with green skin, and a handsome man Thor assumes to be the king.

"We come in peace!" Rhodey calls.

Sif's smile stiffens at the sight of Jane, who rises, folding her arms.

And then Jane's eyes widen. "Is that your father?"

"Where are we?" howls Odin. "I want—you need to—"

"We're in Wakanda, with people who can help, Father," Thor insists. "Please—"

"Loki did something to him," Sif says. "Played with his mind. Left him on the streets of New York and impersonated him to take control of Asgard—"

"What the hell?" gapes Sam as he and Steve rush over. Steve freezes at the sight of Tony, who refuses to take off his suit.

"Bruce!" exclaims Clint as he appears, followed by Wanda and Vision. Thor smiles, pleased to see those two still helping out. "It's good to see you."

"Thanks," Bruce mutters.

A raccoon, a walking tree, and two men, one of whom is larger than Thor himself, appear. "Who are you?" Thor demands.

"Long story," says the king.

"You are the king here, yes?" Thor asks. "I humbly beseech you, from one king to another, that you would grant us an audience and a safe space for my father, the king of Asgard, for the time being—"

"This has to do with Thanos, doesn't it? Somehow?" asks one of the new humans, dressed in some sort of trench coat, that Thor doesn't recognize.

"Yes," Thor says in surprise. "Indeed it does."

"Figures," grumbles the raccoon.

"You again," moans Tony.

"Where's your spiderwebby friend?" taunts the raccoon.

"If he were here, I would kill him," says the one who looks like a mini-hulk.

"It's a talking raccoon," gasps Bruce. "Or else I've completely snapped."

"Eh, shut up," says the raccoon. "Like I haven't heard that one before."

"Maybe we should all talk?" Rhodey suggests. "About this Thanos character, and everything else?"

"Fine," gripes Tony. Rhodey shoots him a _settle down_ look.

"Thanos is coming," moans Odin.

"I'll take your father," Sif offers, reaching for Odin. "If you want to talk." She nods towards Jane and bites her lip.

"Thank you," Thor tells her. Odin follows her like a child, and Thor wants to scream. _Loki, how could you?_

"You came back before two years went by," Jane states to him as the others file into the building, her eyes like steel. A bird hoots in the distance, and the humidity makes Thor feel as if he's been sewn into his clothing.

"Yes, I—" Thor stops himself. "What are you doing—"

"Working on finding Natasha and Bucky Barnes," Jane says. "Although I suppose now that you're here, my work's a bit irrelevant, isn't it?" Shame starts to coat Thor's insides.

"I'm sorry I left," Thor blurts out.

"Without a word, again," Jane says, as if he doesn't already know. Tears glisten in her eyes.

"I'm sorry—I had a vision—of death coming for all of Asgard—Heimdall was saying it was my fault—I had to—" A cloud passes over the sun. Thor's relieved.

"Thanos is in love with death, isn't he?" Jane asks. "Do you think it's related to that?"

"Most likely, yes," Thor agrees. _You're still helping me figure things out, aren't you?_ "Jane, I—"

"Save it," Jane tells him, shaking her head. "I loved you, Thor. I can't—you left again—and if it happens again, I couldn't—"

"I know; my duties—"

"That's exactly it: your duties," Jane interrupts. "Thor, I understand why you do the things you do, okay? I know why you felt you had to leave. I just—that's not a life I want. That's not something I can bear. I'm sorry."

Thor nods. He knows it. He's known it for a while. He still feels as if he's been kicked in the chest.

"We should join the others," Jane says.

Thor agrees, following her in.

* * *

"You're Loki's brother," Gamora says to Thor as she leans against a wall, biting into a peach. T'Challa, Sam, Steve, and the Asgardian woman—Sif—all hover nearby.

Steve watches Thor's face as he nods. Anger, pain—Steve wonders what it would have been like for him if he found out that Bucky knew what he was doing all along. He can't imagine. It would crush him. Sympathy stirs inside him for Thor. And their father—he's resting now, but Steve shudders to think of what Loki did to him.

"I am," Thor confirms, grabbing a piece of mango set out on the table. Oranges, ruby-hued pomegranates, and plump berries cover golden plates.

"He's my brother too," Gamora says simply. Thor's jaw drops.

T'Challa's lips curve into a smile.

"Thanos adopted me," Gamora says. "He adopts those he finds, usually after destroying their worlds, and carves them into weapons. I remember when Loki came along."

"What do you mean?" Sif blurts out, popping several berries into her mouth and appearing mildly impressed with the Midgardian fruit.

"The Other found him. He was Thanos's servant. He kept Thanos's children in check. Loki had been falling through a void when the Other caught him." Gamora drops onto a chair next to T'Challa.

"What happened?" Steve can't help asking.

"He tortured him just like he tortured all of us. Torture to the brink of death brings some sort of orgasmic joy to that monster," Gamora says bitterly. "Loki was smarter than most. He tried to bargain. And Thanos agreed that if he took earth, he could rule it. But Thanos didn't much care for him taking earth. He just wanted the Tessaract, and death."

Thor covers his face with his hands.

"He asked me to help him once," Gamora says, looking at Steve, at Thor, at Sif, at all of them as if asking them to judge her. "I told him to get used to it. This was his life now. After so many years you give up hope."

Sam sighs. A slice of mango lies still in his hand. Steve can't eat. His stomach ties itself in knots.

"I'm sorry," T'Challa tells her.

Her eyes slip in his direction, confused. She shakes it off. "And then he managed to escape ever so briefly before he died. The Other had promised to hunt him down, you know. Make him wish for something as sweet as pain. If he hadn't gone to Svartalfheim with you, Thor, Thanos likely would have sent me and Nebula to retrieve him." She smiles again, staring out a window, where a bird lands on a green tree branch. "I thought he died on his own terms. And I started to think that maybe I could get away too." She grabs a pomegranate. "When Thanos lent me and Nebula to the Kree, I decided to escape. And ran straight into a group of losers."

"Losers?" questions Steve.

"People who have lost something," says Gamora with a frown.

Sam snickers. Sif shakes her head. T'Challa leans back. "That was brave of you. To go a different way."

"Something Loki apparently has not done," Thor says sadly.

"My sister Nebula is still missing in the skies too," Gamora tells him. "I won't give up on her. Don't give up on your brother."

"He needs to suffer for what he did to my father," Thor says, his jaw tightening.

"Isn't he already?" asks Gamora.

"I doubt it." It's not the same as with Bucky. Steve knows that. "You were turned into an assassin, a weapon." Like Bucky. "Loki had fallen long before that, hadn't he?"

Thor nods.

"Don't try to make me feel better," Gamora snaps.

"Loki can choose to redeem himself," says T'Challa. "Just like your sister. I chose not to continue on my path of vengeance. They can always make better choices."

Gamora studies him. Steve wonders if Tony will ever make a different choice. If Tony will forgive him.

Because he misses his friend.

"I don't think Loki deserves another chance," Sif says bitterly.

"Hey! Hey, Gamora!" Peter Quill pounds into the room. "That scientist chick might have a lead on where we can find your friends!"

* * *

_What the hell am I doing?_

Natasha can't sleep. They have a plan, albeit a tentative one, to get the staff. Even though Natasha isn't so sure she's going to stick to it precisely. If worse comes to worse, she can always appeal to Thor.

" _We should trust each other," Loki told them._

And Natasha agreed, though she was partly laughing and partly crying inside.

Either way, they _will_ get that staff. Natasha can see the pain riddling Bucky's face, and she wants to end it, wipe it away.

_What if it's not that easy?_

She knows. Natasha looks at her hands. _Your ledger's dripping, it's gushing red_.

The kind of wound you can't just stitch up and hope that scar's not too ugly. The kind of wound that hurts years afterwards, shredded insides, things not quite working how they're supposed to anymore. _Once the Winter Soldier's gone, how much will you still be Bucky? What if it isn't what you thought it would be?_

 _We'll figure it out,_ Natasha tells herself, peering out the window, at the pitch-black sky.

She kissed him, and she's not even entirely sure why. She likes the way he kisses. _And you always meant something to me,_ she thinks as she watches him and wonders whether he's asleep, or just pretending. But she can't say just what.

They're both assassins. There's blood trickling from each of their ledgers. He understands and she understands in ways people like Clint and Steve, with all their innate goodness and honor, never can.

 _Do I really care, or am I just trying to keep myself from drowning_?

Why is she even second-guessing herself? This isn't like her. Maybe it doesn't even matter.

Salmon and tangerine glows from the edge of the sky. Natasha sighs.

Something slams against their door. Loki and Bucky instantly shoot to their feet. Natasha tenses.

Someone shouts in a language Natasha doesn't understand, but she doesn't need to. The voice, gravelly and harsh, tells her everything she needs to know. Whirling around, she kicks out the window. Glass splinters. Shards slice into the ground below.

"Let's go!" She dives out, Bucky behind her and Loki on their heels.


	11. Chapter 11

"Who is that?" Bucky bellows as he races with Natasha and Loki through the seedy town. Natasha grabs his wrist and yanks him into a small alcove.

"Someone working with Thanos," wheezes Loki.

"What?"

"I'd bet my life on it."

"It looks like you'll get your wish. Our lives are bet on it," snaps Natasha. "We've got to—"

"Get the hell out of here," Loki finishes.

"The Chitauri?" Bucky demands.

"Their blueness would suggest they are Kree," Loki responds.

He has no idea what a Kree is. "Cast an illusion," Bucky tells him. He can feel Natasha's breath over his shoulder.

"Done." Loki snaps his fingers. "Come." He leads them into a crowded tavern, where they worm their way through a mob of drunken dwarves and elves and what look to be normal humans, some tottering around, some passed out.

"We need to split up," Loki announces as he turns to them, the wooden door handle clutched in his hand. The scent of stale beer almost reminds Bucky of parties he used to drag Steve too, and Steve would drag him home.

"That's all well and good for you," Bucky snaps. "You know this place. Natasha and I don't."

"I trust your instincts to figure it out." Loki nods at a snoring patron, grubby hands clutched around a bow and arrow.

"Clint's never going to let me live this down," Natasha gripes as she picks it up.

"I'll lead them in the wrong direction," Loki says. "You two head east. Get in a boat. Row there. There's a temple in a tree by the river. Even you mortals can't miss it. Stay near it. I'll be there within the hour."

"You aren't tricking us, are you?" Bucky demands. "Because wouldn't it make more sense for us to—"

"You don't know the Kree. You can't fight them. I'm going to lead them off."

"Sacrificing yourself. How noble," says Natasha, rolling her eyes.

"It's not sacrifice if you don't intend on dying," Loki retorts.

"You can't guarantee—"

"I might as well be a god compared even to you," Loki snaps. "Get going." And he's gone, and Bucky shakes his head and darts out the other door, Natasha on his heels.

"Give me that," she calls.

"What?"

"The bow and arrow. Clint's taught me a few things." She snatches it from his hands. "We need to get away from the town."

Bucky nods, his heart hammering. What if Loki doesn't come back? He wouldn't put it past the trickster. "This way." He ducks off the main road, heading east through a bog. His boots sink in mud. Natasha sucks in her breath behind him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she confirms as she pries her legs up through the sticky mud. Her red hair plastered to her forehead as sweat beads by her temples. Behind them, Bucky can hear shouts and scuffles.

"Do you think he's playing us?"

"I hope not," Natasha answers, her mouth set in a grim line. The mud grows less sticky, more fluid. Bucky sloshes through, peering through the thick trees. Something long and slender slides around his ankles.

"Look!" Natasha points through the trees. "A boat. We can take—"

Bucky's already foraging ahead through the swamp. Wilted leaves bat at his face and the mud turns into brown water with a sort of current. He grabs the boat and drags himself inside, offering his hand to Natasha, who takes it. Each grabs an oar made of rough wood that scrapes at their callouses.

"Where's this temple?" Natasha grunts.

"There," Bucky says, because it's right in front of them, through a wall of vines. A grove with several huts—houses? Smaller temples?—growing out of trees, with one giant tree in the middle. Fire glows from inside, and yet somehow it doesn't burn.

"If Loki is playing us, we can ask about Thor," Natasha says. "If he finds us, he'll help us."

"He can't fix me."

Natasha snorts. "No one can."

"What?"

"Once you're fully you again, what does that even mean?" she asks. "You'll still see their faces. What will you want to do?"

"Atone," he says simply. Her eyebrows plunge. "Like you."

"I don't know if I'm atoning or if I'm just doing the only thing I know how to do, but for a different side," she says. The current carries their boat, and she lets her fingers skim the edge of the river's surface.

She's nudging at all his worst fears. "Some people don't see you as any different, do they?"

She shakes her head.

"How do you believe it then?" Bucky wonders aloud. "How do you know that you're not an assassin anymore?"

"I'll always be an assassin. I'm not Russian; they put a bounty on my head." She smirks. "I accepted it."

"Well, I can't. I don't want to be an assassin anymore." And yet the memory of those words— _seventeen—no—not now—never—no_ —closes in around him, stuffs its hand down his throat and chokes him from the inside. _You can't unmake what they made you into._

And it's so wrong, and it's so unfair.

"The people that matter see me differently," Natasha says softly. "Clint. Bruce. Steve…"

Steve will always, always believe in him. Even though he shouldn't. Bucky could almost laugh. He looks into Natasha's eyes, blue-green and alive, and he can only tell her that he doesn't see her as an assassin. Even though he's seen her assassinate.

Natasha blinks.

 _Please believe me,_ he wants to say. Because he needs her to believe it, so he can believe it about himself. Because she doesn't deserve to be labeled by something she was groomed to be from birth.

Shouts echo through the bog. Natasha yanks up her bow and arrow, tensing.

"Loki?" Bucky wonders aloud as they glide under the temple. A rope ladder dangles.

The shouting dissipates, but the hair on Bucky's neck still stands up. His phantom arm tingles. "Give me the bow."

She studies him and hands it over. "I'll help you climb up."

He nods. Natasha jumps and pulls herself up the ladder. Bucky's eyes search the surroundings—one other house has a flickering light; the rest are dark and dull. Heat sizzles up from the water and the crevices between trees and vines and leaves and dead branches are black and impossible to make out.

"Come on," Natasha calls as she climbs into the temple place.

Bucky stands, the boat rocking beneath him. Something snaps in the background, and he whirls around, an arrow slinging out at a blue creature whose face Bucky barely has time to take in, because something else slices past him, and then there's fire and heat and the temple above him and Natasha explode into red and yellow and black, black smoke.

* * *

"Don't thank me," Jane says. "It's thanks to them." She nods at Peter Quill, Drax, Rocket, and Groot.

"We heard from Xandar that there's this whole pack of Kree warriors headed towards some other realm. Like they were in the galaxy, and then they were just gone," Peter narrates, waving his arms around for emphasis.

"Gone where?" prompts Thor. Clint tenses.

"A place called Nornheim? They're working with Thanos, no doubt, and they're after like some humans. Like you," Drax says, unsheathing a knife. "It will be amusing to go and kill some more Kree."

Gamora rolls her eyes.

"Couldn't there be other humans?" questions Sif. "I mean, Starlord, you've been living far from your home planet, so—"

"Not according to the data they sent me from Xandar," Jane interrupts, her eyes bright and cheeks red with excitement. Thor can only imagine how thrilled she is to examine alien technology. "The different patterns in energy make it likely that—"

"It's Bucky and Nat," Steve interrupts.

"Let's go," Clint says. "I'm not leaving Nat to the mercy of some crazy Kree. Didn't they try to annihilate the galaxy?"

"Well, only one of them," Gamora says, crossing her arms. T'Challa stands directly behind her.

"One's enough if they succeed," Sam says dryly.

"Thor, you should come with us," Gamora says.

"Why?" demands Rocket.

"I am Groot," argues the tree.

"Okay, okay, you're right, he's the only one who's been to this Norn-place before," grumbles the creature.

"What are the chances of us running into Thanos?" asks Drax.

"None," Gamora says. "We get their friends. And then we leave."

"Capture a Kree maybe for information?" suggests Tony, crossing his arms. He still won't look in Steve's direction, but Thor sees the way he pinches his eyebrows, how his lips turn in a scowl. He's worried about Natasha.

"I must find and kill Thanos," insists Drax, clenching his fists. T'Challa frowns.

"It's his way," Gamora says to T'Challa. "You won't change his mind."

"He doesn't get to go," Tony says, pointing at Steve. "I don't trust him."

"If he acts out, I can remove his spine," Drax offers. Thor almost laughs, but he's not entirely sure the man isn't serious.

"On second thought…"

"I leave and you all revert to being toddlers?" complains Bruce. "And no," he adds in response to Starlord's gaze. "I could kill you all if I had to spend any time in that cramped enclosed space."

"I'll take care of him, Steve," Clint promises, clapping his hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Wanda, you coming?" asks Starlord.

"I'll sit this one out," Wanda says. "I trust Clint and the rest of you to do a good job." Thor notices her hand closing over Vision's. _Is she afraid to leave him?_

 _Are they_ together?

Thor watches Jane, and instead of her face haunting him, another face appears."I can't leave my father."

"Yes, you can," Sif counters. "You must. For your friend's sake. I'll watch over your father, Thor, I promise." Her eyes meet his, warm and fiery brown, determined and honest.

Thor shakes his head. "You go."

"What?" Sif blinks.

"You've been there, too," he points out, clasping her shoulders. "Okay, so it was a bit of a disaster last time, but you can handle it. You can help them find Natasha and Barnes. I know you can."

"Sounds great," says Rocket. "Now can we get moving?"

"You better come back," Laura Barton says to her husband as she kisses him.

 _So had you,_ Thor thinks as he watches Sif nod and join the others.

* * *

"Make one move, Terren scum, and we'll skin you alive," snarls one of the blue creatures.

Bucky doesn't care. He can't move, or he would. His entire body feels bruised, his knees throbbing like they've been bashed in with a hammer, his face raw and his shoulders and chest smarting and stinging from burns. And worst of all is the dark, dank clouds weighing down his heart and his lungs and everything inside him that keeps him alive.

_She's dead because of me._

If he hadn't left… taken Loki up on his offer… none of the Kree have even mentioned the wayward prince. Did they kill him? More likely, Bucky thinks, Loki fled. Left them.

 _You thought the crazed man who tried to take over the world, who killed thousands in New York, could save you? You trusted someone known throughout history as a_ liar?

And the only person, besides Steve, who saw him as anything but a monster, is dead because of it.

_I'm so sorry._

But those are words he's never spoken aloud, because they're words, pathetic sounds meant to convey something that actually convey nothing, that repair nothing. Because Natasha, a woman who liked him, who believed in him, _goddammit_ , who kissed him and told him he was more than a monster, is dead because he was an idiot.

Bucky shuts his eyes and wishes they would skin him. He twitches his fingers, remembering that he only has one arm. He moves his legs against the binds they have.

"That's it!" rages one of the blue men, charging at him with what looks like an enormous anvil.

_Crush my skull. Please. Get rid of this poisoned brain._

Instead, someone in the distance lets out a feral screech. The blue man stops.

A woman clad in armor, with a double-sided blade, races through, followed by a green woman and what looks like a very angry tree. An arrow lands in the dirt next to him.

"Hey, you," says a familiar voice. _Hawkeye_. Clint.

 _No._ Bucky gapes at him.

"Hold on," says a gruff voice. A man almost the size of the Hulk unsheathes a blade and uses it to slice off the black, thick ties binding Bucky.

"Where's Natasha?" Clint demands, grabbing Bucky by the shoulder. His fingers dig in against a burn. White-hot pain explodes and Bucky can't see for a moment. But he can hear.

_Where's Natasha?_

What can he even say?

He shakes his head. His vision starts to return. Blurry mud and twigs.

"You don't know?" Clint asks him.

"Buncha wimps," says a furry animal as he glances at a dead body. An _animal_.

" _Where is she?"_ Clint yells.

"She's dead," Bucky hears himself say, and he hates it, hates the cold way it floats into the air, a fact that shouldn't be a fact, wouldn't be true if it wasn't for him.

_You'll always be a murderer._

"What?" Clint croaks.

"Did the Kree kill her?" demands a dark haired woman, polishing her blade. Blood drips off it, dark and thick.

He doesn't even know. Probably, unless Loki did it, which Bucky can't say didn't happen. Either way, it's on him. Her blood. He almost wishes it was, so he could see. "It's my fault."

"What happened?" Clint shouts, grabbing his shoulders again. Pain sizzles and slices at him.

"Your friend is dead?" inquires a large man.

"I am _Groot_!" cries the tree.

What exactly can he say? He made a deal with Loki and it all went wrong? What will Steve think? Will his friend still struggle to keep Bucky alive, still insist he's not a monster?

He wishes he was the one who exploded. He wishes the blue people had skinned him alive, or just cut his throat, let him die covered in red, the way he lived. He wants to die. He can't take it anymore. All those faces—they storm his mind, linger in his palms, the soles of his feet, his chest and mind, and now there's no hope they'll ever leave, and one of the only people who believed in him is dead because of him.

He's never felt quite like this before. He was always too selfish to die.

"She's dead because of me," he says.

"Is this one of those misplaced guilt things?" asks a man in a leather trenchcoat. "Or did you, like, actually kill her?"

_Indirectly, yes._

He doesn't answer, and that's enough for Clint. He punches Bucky in the jaw.

* * *

Natasha gasps as she wakes up. Her lungs burn as if embers smolder inside her, and her palms sting. She lifts them to her face and finds them wrapped in crude gauze.

"Oh good. You're awake," says a droll voice.

"Loki." Natasha sits up. Her ribs stab at her, and she lies back down. "Where's—"

"Your boyfriend?" Loki supplies.

"He's not my boyfriend," Natasha snaps.

"I don't know. The Kree swarmed—"

The explosion. Red, light, and the heat searing her clothes, her body. "How did you—"

"As soon as you entered the temple I grabbed you and we jumped out. My illusion still worked for them to blow it up." Loki scowls. "I miscalculated. I thought Bucky would be there too, but he wasn't."

Natasha pushes herself up on her elbow. Her stomach roils, and for a moment nausea overwhelms her. _Breathe in. Breathe out._ Easier said than done with broken ribs. And that knee of hers— _oof_. "The Kree—they have him, don't they?"

"Probably. But I have no desire to fight them all by myself." Ashes still smear Loki's face.

"Coward," she accuses.

"I saved your life. Remember that." Loki slumps back against the wall, sliding to the floor. So much for a dignified prince.

_You saved my life._

Loki _saved my life._

 _He didn't have to come back for you_ _both_.

Natasha almost laughs. "Thank you."

Loki blinks as if startled. He nods and glances about the small hut they're in, refusing to meet her eyes.

 _You don't know what to do,_ Natasha realizes. For once, Loki doesn't have a plan.

* * *

"I trusted you," Clint seethes. "I _fought_ for you! I gave up so much _for you_ because I thought—because I believed—Steve said—" Tears stream down his face. "Nat was one of my best friends!"

"I am so sorry," says the warrior woman. The green woman next to her nods.

 _Natasha was one of mine, too,_ Bucky thinks. The only friend he really had who didn't know him before the Winter Soldier. He closes his eyes.

"You don't get to do that!" Clint rages. "You don't get to close your eyes and pretend this isn't real. This _is_ real!" His fingers grip Bucky's swollen jaw. He gasps.

"Would you like me to remove his spine?" offers the large man.

"What is with you and removing spines?" complains a raccoon.

"He needs to face the king," says the warrior woman. "And the rest of your Avengers. Maybe the story isn't quite as clear cut as—"

"I don't care whether he did it directly or indirectly," Clint says, breathing hard. "Nat's still dead."

 _They cared enough to come looking for Natasha_. Bucky's face burns. She really had found a family.

"You," Clint says, jabbing his finger in Bucky's face. "You're going to tell your story to the rest of the Avengers. To Steve. None of this 'I suddenly forgot how to talk' crap. Or I'll get Wanda to tear it from your head."

"She can do that?" asks the man in the trench coat. "Cool."

 _Steve_.

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut even as he hears Clint yelling again, hears the threats lobbed at him. He can't face them, because he doesn't know what he'll say to Steve. How can he explain any of this?


	12. Chapter 12

"I _fought_ for you," Clint says, glaring. The words stream from his mouth, harsh and agonized. "I gave up _so much_ for you. Laura—my kids—Wanda and Scott and Sam and Steve—we all suffered to try and help you. Natasha too, even. Because we believed Steve. We believed _you_ when you told Steve that you'd changed. And now—" Clint shakes his head, slamming his fist into the wall of the ship.

"Don't break anything!" hollers the man in the trenchcoat.

"He's upset; let him punch things," comments the raccoon, waving his paw.

"Breaking things does often help me feel better," confirms the mini-Hulk.

"Say something!" Clint yells, grabbing Bucky's shoulders. Bucky could fight him off, but he just doesn't care. "Please," Clint begs, and Bucky knows Clint's accusations are all lies; he doesn't mean them, but he should.

He keeps seeing the temple explode, feeling the rush of heat. _Natasha_.

And he hears himself agreeing to Loki's terms. _I never should have agreed. I never should have trusted him._

"Tell me what happened!"

_I allied with the demigod who unleashed aliens on New York to save my own mind, Natasha helped bail me out, and then we were planning to break into Asgard and she got blown up._

He can't.

He'll never change. Not now. Bucky wishes he was dead, wishes he was the one blown up.

Shame sticks to his blood, traveling through every millimeter of his body.

"You're pathetic," Clint accuses.

"I can make him talk," offers the mini-Hulk, stepping forward with a gleam in his eyes. At that, Bucky's head snaps up.

 _Dammit!_ His body still wants to care about his life when his soul's given up on it.

"Not on my ship!" explodes the man in a trenchcoat, leaping in front of the mini-Hulk. "Not here, not now, Drax!"

"You're no fun," complains the raccoon.

"I don't think it'd even work," remarks the green woman, perched against the side of the ship and watching Bucky with unwavering eyes. "He doesn't care."

"He doesn't _care?"_ Clint yells.

"Not like that." The woman waves her arm impatiently. "He looks defeated."

"He _is?"_ offers the armored woman.

Bucky jerks his gaze away from the green woman. She reminds him of Natasha, even in her outfit, and he hates it because it reminds him of what his stupidity, his desperation, his weakness, sacrificed.

"Well, we are here," pronounces the trenchcoat man. "Landing in five-four-three…"

Bucky closes his eyes as the ship slams onto the ground. His teeth clack together.

"I am Groot," the tree offers.

Bucky keeps his eyes shut.

"I am Groot," the tree says again, and something rough scrapes his face. Bucky's eyes fly open to see the tree frowning at him. Is it trying to hug him?

 _Go away,_ Bucky thinks.

"Come on," Clint says with a scowl. He readies his arrows. "Time to face the music. And if you try anything, I won't hesitate to shoot you. You aren't my friend."

Of course not. Friends. Bucky could almost laugh. The moment he has one besides Steve, she dies.

He remembers her kiss and wishes he'd told her more. They could have run for it, all those years ago. She made him feel alive, like no one ever did besides Steve, because she cared about him. And she was beautiful.

_I'm so sorry._

"Here." The green woman yanks him up and practically drags him off the ship and into the blazing sunlight of Wakanda.

"You're back!" cries the man Bucky remembers as being the size of an ant, and then a giant. "Where's the redhead?"

"Bucky!" Sam flies over. "God, Steve's going to—"

"What's wrong?" demands a woman dressed in red, the one with magic. She clutches the hand of the purple man, the one who fought against them last time. And, _oh shit_ , there's Iron Man and his friend, and T'Challa. Tony's face caves in with pain when he sees Bucky, and Bucky against wishes he were dead.

Thor appears, hammer clutched in his hand, and Bruce Banner. The armored woman shakes her head at Thor.

And Steve. He stares at Bucky and then runs to him. _Why why why why why?_

"You're back!" Steve gasps. "Bucky, I was so—you—"

Bucky's shaking. His eyes dart about and he can't focus.

"Nat's dead," Clint says harshly.

Steve's face drains. Bucky focuses on that. _Look at what you've done._ It's not his voice. It's from the past.

"What?" asks Tony in a low, deadly tone.

"I don't know what happened," Clint says in an anguished voice. "Ask him!"

Bucky shakes his head. He can't breathe.

"Nat can't be dead," the witch says, her voice trembling.

"How?" asks T'Challa. Bruce Banner turns and runs down the hallway, away from them.

"I'll make sure he's okay," says the armored woman, darting after him.

 _See what pain you've caused_?

He always imagined it. Now, Bucky sees up close and raw and bloody.

"Bucky?" Steve croaks out. " _What happened?"_ His fingers shake as he grabs Bucky's arm, but Bucky can't look at him. His friend. His only friend, his best friend, and he might as well have stabbed him through the heart, because he took away Steve's other friend. It burns and it throbs in his chest, and he can't get away from it, he can't fight it. _She's dead because of me._

He shakes his head, because he can't explain it, not with Thor's brother watching, not with everyone grieving. Sam's wiping tears from his eyes, even.

"What happened?" screams Clint. " _Tell_ me!"

"Why did you leave?" demands T'Challa, stepping forwards. "Were you abducted?"

Bucky shakes his head again.

"Shit!" Steve swears, possibly for the first time that Bucky's ever heard. "Bucky, tell me! What happened to Natasha?" His voice breaks, and it's going to keep breaking, shatter, because Natasha's dead and it's his fault.

"He's in shock," T'Challa intervenes. "He can't answer anything right now."

 _Why are you even still trying?_ Bucky wants to scream at Steve. _Why?_

"Did you kill her?" demands Thor, gripping his hammer.

_Did I?_

He's not sure.

He wants to say no, but he remembers the feel of her lips against his and he thinks that he did, that it's his fault.

"He looks confused," offers the purple man.

"What did I just say?" demands t'Challa, exasperated.

"Uh, he just supposedly killed—" says the ant-man.

"We don't know that," Sam snaps. "He's confused. Give him some space."

"Did they hurt him?" Steve manages. "Did he get hit on the head?"

"Not by us," says the green woman.

"Gamora, can you follow me with him?" requests T'Challa. "We have a room we can put him in. For now. I'll send medics in. Let him calm down, and then we'll talk." He grabs Steve's shoulder as Steve takes a step forwards. "He needs to calm down first."

The green woman hauls Bucky away, and as he looks over his shoulder, he sees Steve staring in horror, but not following. The look on his face is like he's seen a monster.

And Clint's face is full of regret.

* * *

"We need to figure out what to do," pleads Natasha.

"Getting into Asgard with just two of us isn't going to—"

Natasha shakes her head. "I don't give a damn about Asgard. Where is Bucky?"

Loki crosses his arms. "I have no idea where your boyfriend is."

"Well, we need to look for him." Natasha flexes her back and winces. Every joint in her body throbs.

"What's the point?" demands Loki.

"You saved my life," Natasha says. "I don't know why you did it or what you get out of it, but I'm sure you get something. What do I have to give you to get you to help me now?"

Loki holds up the Infinity Gauntlet. "I have the universe at my fingertips. Should I—"

"Oh, shut up," Natasha snaps.

Loki taps it and smirks. "You're not as cool and collected as you usually are."

"No," Natasha says, shaking. "I'm not. I need to—we need to—"

Loki rolls his eyes. Shadows creep along the walls, slithering towards them as daylight fades.

"You're not as conniving as you usually are," Natasha snaps.

"Because I saved your life?"

"What are you getting from it? What is my life worth to you?" she asks, leaning back.

Loki grits his teeth. The gold of the Infinity Gauntlet winks at her. He glances towards the door to the hut where they've been hiding.

"You don't want to be a monster," Natasha says slowly.

Loki's eyebrows swoop together. He glares at her, and she knows she's dug up something he wants to stay hidden, though why, she doesn't quite understand. _Is it really so shameful, to think that you might not be a monster?_

 _It's a betrayal of all you've done, all you've hurt._ Natasha grimaces.

Loki drops to the floor. He won't look at her.

 _It's still too late,_ Natasha thinks. _For you. Maybe for Bucky_. "Please. Help me." She doesn't like pleading. She hasn't begged ever since she begged God to save her friend in that hospital and was rewarded only with blood and sunken, unseeing eyes. " _Please_."

Loki snorts. "Now you sound pathetic. Like mortals are supposed to sound, instead of proud and—"

"Please," Natasha says again. "We can go look, see what we find. If nothing, we—"

"That'll be the end of the road," Loki cuts in.

"Not for me." She shakes her head. It will never be the end of the road, not for me. She's used to losing, grasping and having whatever goodness is in her life torn away. She stopped reaching for things long ago.

But now she has a chance, now she has someone, and she will keep searching and keep looking if it kills her. _Steve, I understand now._

Dead parts of her light on fire.

"You and my brother are more alike than you realize," Loki tells her without a smile. He slips the gauntlet on. "Let's go."

* * *

"Knock, knock," says Tony.

Steve stares out a window, but he's sees nothing except brightness. No greenery or sky or life registers.

_Natasha's dead._

Hadn't they always known that their roles could or would lead to something like this, eventually? But when it wasn't happening, when Tony was able to gasp out a joke after falling from a portal above New York, it was easy to deny that it was a possibility.

The collateral damage is their own this time, and Steve's reminded of all the friends he lost in the war. All the women he saw screaming and weeping over boyfriends, husbands, fathers who would never come home. And the friends.

Friends like Bucky. He wants to get drunk again now, just like after his death, and there's no Peggy to rescue him. No Nat. Sharon can't come.

_All because of me and our stupid civil war._

"I don't really want to talk," Steve says tersely. _Mr. Perfect, the perfect failure._

"Yeah, sulking can be fun. Ask me how I know." Tony strides in anyways. Steve rolls his eyes, because of course Tony does. The man has no respect or-

"How's everyone?" Steve manages. _Are you my friend or enemy?_

 _"_ Not wonderful. Wanda's crying. So's Laura and Clint. Thor's an anxious mess." _Friend,_ Tony seems to decide. _Or at least acquaintance_.

"Bruce?"

"Locked himself in a small holding cell to hulk out in. Guess he and T'Challa prepared that last night." Tony shrugs. "What exactly was going on between Natasha and Bruce?"

"She liked him," Steve answers, turning away from the window. The brightness lingers in his eyes, obscuring the dim room. "He didn't want to hurt her."

"So he hurt her by leaving her," Tony comments.

"You're one to talk." Stev e doesn't care if he sounds self-righteous, because damn, it feels good. It feels good to tear Tony down right now, when all the things Tony did to him—to Bucky—flash through his mind, sit like lumps under his skin.

"Yeah, thanks for that." Tony blows out his breath. "Have you talked to your friend yet?"

"No. I will," Steve adds hastily. His heart pounds and pounds; his throat clamps. _You weren't right, you weren't right_. "T'Challa says they sedated him for now, but we need to find out what happened."

"I agree, and I think your methods are probably better than mine," Tony says.

Steve glares at him. "Thanos could have been involved."

"Considering all the weirdness going on in the galaxy at the moment, probs," Tony agrees.

"Just say it," Steve says irritably.

"Say what?"

"You think Bucky killed Natasha."

"No," Tony says. "You do."

Steve glares. _You're so smug_. "I don't."

"Then why haven't you gone and seen him?"

"Because he was sedated?"

"Yeah, eight hours ago. It's worn off and you're smart enough to know that."

"He didn't," Steve says, clinging to his words like a life preserver as everything crashes over him, tries to drown him. "He wouldn't hurt—he was a good friend, Tony. My best friend. He threw punches to defend me, not to—"

"I'm not saying Bucky killed Nat. I'm saying it's _possible_ — _"_ Tony rubs his forehead. "The Winter Soldier did. You saw him when he lost it, when they said—what was it?"

"Trigger words," Steve mutters.

"Yeah."

"He didn't."

But even if he did, Steve can't fault him. It's _not_ his fault. But if he did, Steve doubts he'll ever be able to convince Bucky not to believe that.

What if he's lost two friends, instead of one?

"Bucky didn't," Tony agrees. "But maybe the Winter Soldier did. And if Thanos is involved, we need to find out what happened."

"I'm surprised you haven't broken in there to try and murder him," Steve spits out. Spite slimes his voice, and he can't take it back and he doesn't know if he wants to. "You're my _friend_ , Tony, and you betrayed me and Wanda and Sam and Clint. And Scott. Friends don't do that. You can't even claim brainwashing."

"I can claim that your friend murdered my mother. Try to make friends with someone who killed someone you love. Hard, isn't it?" Tony glares at him.

"Imagine you murdered people, without intending to. Hell, Bucky wanted to kill people less than you did when you were selling weapons," Steve snaps. "Can't you even _try_ to imagine that? Or do you have any empathy left? Can't you—that was what they made Nat do too, okay?"

"Nat didn't kill anyone I loved."

Steve snorts. "Did you ever ask her?"

Tony blanches.

"Give him a chance to try and re—"

"Do we need to get involved here?" Sam and Rhodey both appear in the doorway, wearing identical scowls.

"No," Tony and Steve say in unison.

"You," Tony says. "Did you ever ask me what it was like for me when my parents died?"

The blood drains from Steve's face. He shakes his head.

"I'm gonna need a drink for this."

"I can't get drunk."

"Lucky you," Tony tells Steve, ghosts haunting the lines in his face.

* * *

"They're all dead," Loki muses, stepping over a body. "Impressive."

"Thanos?" Natasha asks.

"No, these Kree work for Thanos." Loki can feel the Infinity Gauntlet thrumming with power. It sucks him in, whispers to him. He shakes his head. "This one's neck was snapped, and those two were shot with some sort of weapon. Oh, and these three got hit with arrows."

"And here are ropes," Natasha says. "As if they had a prisoner who escaped."

"I am not sojourning all over Nornheim to try and find the escaped Winter Soldier," Loki snaps. The trees cast ghoulish shadows, filtering the sunlight to look almost green.

"Bucky," Natasha corrects. "Not the Winter Soldier."

"I think the whole point of him allying with me is because he doesn't want to be the Winter Soldier anymore. Which would, you know, imply he still is." Loki spreads his palms as if to say _I don't make the rules_.

"You're despicable."

"So now we're back to that." It's familiar territory to Loki. Feels better, more familiar, than reluctant gratitude.

"Do you ever think that maybe he's better off for it?"

Natasha glares at him. "You don't know what it's like to be made into something you never had a choice about."

"Don't I?" Loki closes his eyes, and his facade drops away. Blue replaces skin, red glows from his eyes, and the grass around him shrivels under frost. "Isn't this the face of a monster?"

"I don't know."

"See?" Loki scoffs as he turns back into his usual self.

"Your choices make you a monster. When you don't have choices—"

"Like poor you and poor Bucky," Loki mocks.

"No, like Bucky. Not like me." Natasha looks up at the cobwebby branches arching over their heads. "I never had much of a chance, no, but I had more choice than he did."

"I was raised to hate Frost Giants. The Allfather never considered telling me I was one, not until he planned to place me on the throne of a planet I hated and had only visited for battles," Loki spits. Rage surges within him, and his eyes sting. _Dammit_.

"And if you had been raised there? Raised to hate Thor and the Asgardians, and then changed your mind? That'd be more like—" Natasha cuts herself off.

 _Like you_. Loki crosses his arms. "The Allfather could have raised me and taught me who I was. Been honest. Then I could have chosen. Now it's too late."

"Bullshit."

"You think I can be anything other than Loki, Destroyer of New York?"

"You're giving yourself a title now?" Natasha scowls.

He smirks, and to his surprise, she almost smiles. And then her smile's gone. "A lot of innocent people died then."

"I know." _If the Allfather only had..._

 _If_ you _only had._

Loki flinches.

"Wait," Natasha says, leaping over one of the bodies and plucking an arrow from it. She examines it.

"What are you doing?" Loki demands.

"This is Clint's."

"The—Hawkeye? Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." Excitement flashes in Natasha's usually stoic voice.

 _He cared enough to come for you_.

"If it was him, they're likely back on earth," Loki says.

"Take me there."

"I can't. I'd have to go with you, and then—they'd kill me on sight."

"Not if I didn't let them. Or you wore a disguise." Natasha's hands tremble. "Loki, if we can get the Avengers to rally against Thanos."

"I can't ask my brother for his friends' help! Not again." He stumbles backwards into a tree, gasping in the sticky air. He wants to do this. Himself. Prove himself.

"I used to think I couldn't rely on anyone either," Natasha tells him.

Loki closes his eyes. _No, Loki_. Falling, screaming, torture, _you're not_ even as his heart screamed _you are, you always are_.

_What would Frigga want you to do?_

* * *

"I'm so sorry," Jane tells Thor.

He nods. He can barely think. "I need to see my father." He brushes past her.

Sif's already in there. Odin doesn't look at Thor when he comes in.

"Father?" Thor asks, voice cracking. _Please recognize me. Please talk to me. Father, I need you._

Odin shakes his head and mumbles something nonsensical.

Thor curses and storms out of the room. _Loki, you can burn in Helheim._

What is there even for Thanos to take?

Thor almost laughs. The great and mighty god of thunder, ready to give up.

"How is your father?" inquires a Sokovian voice to his left. Wanda sits on a small window seat, resting her head against the glass.

"Not well." Thor shakes his hammer. "I don't know what to do."

"About your brother?"

Thor shrugs and drops down next to her.

"Do you miss him?" Wanda asks.

"I would kill him with my bare hands if he were here right now," Thor vows. He tightens his grip on Mjolnir's handle as if imagining it were Loki's neck.

"I once fought against you," Wanda points out.

"Loki is—"

"Knows lots of information on Thanos, if Gamora is right. If you kill him, can you at least wait until we have information first?" She leans forward, peering into his eyes.

Thor stares outside, at the foggy greenery. Mountains lurch in the distance, swathed in low-lying clouds. "Is it that important to you?"

"Thanos needs the mind gem in Vision's head. The thing that gives him life," Wanda says. "I can't let that happen. Vision would—he'd consider handing himself over, if it would save us, but it won't."

 _You love him_ , Thor realizes. An idea sparks in his mind. "Do you think—can you control what kinds of visions you give?"

"Not exactly."

Thor sighs. "So if I asked you to give my father pleasant visions, you could not do it?"

Wanda shakes her head. "I can't control it. I don't know how it works, only that it does." She offers him a sad smile.

"You miss _your_ brother, don't you?" Thor asks, remembering the speedy youngster.

"It felt like I died when he died. And then the Avengers—and then Vision—they helped me. I don't know what I will become if I lose everyone." Wanda examines her fingernails. "Pietro died to save me, to save Clint, to save us all because he knew there was good that can come of that." She rises, looking down at Thor. "I won't let Thanos take that away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a downer chapter; sorry about that! Up next week: Natasha and Loki crash the party, Steve tries to help Bucky, and everyone's a massive tangle of anxiety.


	13. Chapter 13

Steve pauses outside the room where they've, for all intents and purposes, imprisoned Bucky. Who, according to T'Challa, still has yet to say a word.

 _I don't understand,_ Steve pleads, but he can't make himself say it out loud either, because he's afraid. _Help me understand_.

Steve turns away. He's used to knowing what's right, and now he feels lost. He wants to help Bucky, but he's terrified. What if he's lost his friend? If Bucky killed Natasha, even if it isn't his fault, will he be able to recover from that?

Sam slips beside him.

"I'm a mess," Steve says out loud.

"Nah, compared to a lot of people, you're still good," Sam assures him. They round the corner to see Tony pacing back and forth, barking into a phone.

"How the hell did you get to Wakanda? You don't have a visa. Hell, I'm pretty sure your aunt told me you don't even have a _passport_ —"

"Tony," T'Challa says.

"What do you mean, _you know where she keeps it_? She _lied_ to me?"

"Priorities," sighs Rhodey.

"I don't understand," remarks Wanda, clutching Vision's hand.

"What the hell's a passport?" asks Rocket.

"It's like a book that you need to get stamped to enter another country," Scott explains. "If you follow laws, that is."

"That's stupid. I go where I want," declares Rocket.

Scott regards the animal with appreciation. "Me too."

"Tony," interjects T'Challa again.

"No, I'm sure as hell not—" Tony splutters into the phone.

Gamora strides out and rips the phone from Tony's ear.

"What are you doing?" Tony howls.

"You wanted it?" Gamora asks, holding it out to T'Challa and keeping Tony in a headlock.

"I approve," Drax declares as Peter Quill chuckles.

Steve feels like his head's about to explode.

"I want to know who is in Wakanda," T'Challa says, glowering at Tony. "Now."

Tony groans and leans over. Gamora releases him, but still holds the phone out of his reach, "Have you read any New York papers? The Times, the Post? You get that stuff here?"

T'Challa crosses his arms. Steve almost smiles.

Tony sighs. "You remember the spider kid?"

"The one who tried to truss me up like I was some kind of animal?" yells Rocket.

"He's just a kid," Wanda snaps.

"With a grudge against me," retorts Rocket.

"Rocket, he does not have a grudge—" starts Peter Quill.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up," Steve interrupts, his heart pounding. "The kid made it all the way to Wakanda?"

A garbled voice comes from the phone. "I crossed the border on foot."

"I think you need new border guards," Scott tells T'Challa.

"Where did he cross?" demands Vision, rising. "We can't leave him—"

"I don't know; I think that's a pretty good punishment my—"

"Tony, the amount of times you had to call people in your adult life to get you out of shit you shouldn't have gotten yourself into is embarrassing," Rhodey intervenes. "And he's just a teenager."

"We can take the Milano," suggests Peter Quill.

"If I go with you," says T'Challa, his eyes dark.

"Can I go and kill the kid?" asks Tony.

"To the first clause, yes, to the second clause, no," T'Challa returns.

* * *

When the Milano lands in the middle of a mountainous terrain and Tony sees Peter Parker sitting on a ragged rock, wearing shades and a big grin, he could kill the kid himself.

"Hey!" Peter calls, jogging off the rock. His eyes bug out when he sees Gamora. "Whoa! So it _is_ true. The aliens are still here!"

A small smile crosses Gamora's face. Tony would have expected rage. Whatever. Like hell if he can figure this woman out. Or any women.

"If you spray me with any of your spider web shit, kid, I'll chew out your carotid while you're asleep," Rocket warns him.

"I am Groot," scolds the tree.

"Thanks for coming, your Majesty. Your Highness? What works?" Peter asks T'Challa.

"T'Challa is fine," answers the king. Humble. Too humble. But Tony likes the guy anyways. "We're going to have to have a discussion on how you managed to sneak into my borders, however." There's a darkness to T'Challa's tone.

 _Who else could sneak in?_ Tony wonders.

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you need," stammers Peter. He looks to Tony.

"Do I have to call your aunt and give her an excuse or do you have that covered?"

"It's covered. I also got this girl with like, super human strength, to protect her." Peter grins.

"Girl, huh?" asks Peter Quill, leaning against the side of his ship.

"She's older. Her boyfriend runs this bar that I was hiding in, because the police were chasing me—"

"What for?" demands Tony.

"They wanted my identity? I don't know." Peter shrugs. "Anyways, this woman—Jessica Jones—told me to hide, and she said she'd protect Aunt May while I'm here with you guys."

"Yes, that's all well and good," Tony says, throwing his arms into the air. "But why the—why _are_ you here? We don't need you."

"Uh, yeah you do, and it has less to do with that space monster who wants to take over the world and more with the fact that the UN is planning on dropping by uninvited—or invited, but like forced invited, and threatening to nuke Wakanda unless you hand over Captain America and the Winter Soldier and Vision? I think Captain America's negotiable, though," Peter adds.

"What?" demands T'Challa. Tony's blood runs cold.

"How would you know this information?" asks Peter Quill. "Someone's got to be logical around here."

"Screw logic when my country might be getting nuked!" snarls T'Challa.

"That can't happen," Tony says, the words sticking to his throat. _What have I started?_

"Sharon Carter told me when she was in New York and told me to find you guys. They know about the space monster and something magic in Vision's brain too," Peter adds.

 _Oh no._ Tony glances at all of them.

"Freaking government busybodies," complains Rocket.

"Let's get back," T'Challa said. "Peter Parker, you need to tell me everything you know."

Tony leans back against the wall when he enters his ship. He closes his eyes and sees his mother, his father.

 _Every time I try to make the world a safer place, it blows up in my face_. Stark Industries. Ultron. _Now_.

_What am I doing wrong?_

He opens his eyes and half-expects to see defective hands, permanently stained palms. But they're clean, and they work, and they don't even hurt.

He just wants to save people, but he can't. He'll never be able to right all these wrongs. _Never_.

_Pepper, I need you._

He tried to call her last night. She didn't answer.

 _I'm always too late._ His parents, Pepper, Natasha.

Steve's voice lingers in his mind. _Can't you even_ _try_ _to imagine that? Or do you have any empathy left?_

Tony squeezes his eyes shut and, like a little boy, tries not to cry. Because this time his mother isn't around to comfort him, and he can't even imagine an invention to haul him out of this mess.

"I am _Groot_ ," says that stupid tree, and a branch wraps around Tony's shoulder.

* * *

"When are they coming?" Wanda demands.

"That I don't know, but like, soon?" Peter Parker shrugs. Panic pounds Wanda. She can't handle this.

She used to dream about having a perfect life, making the world a better place, a safer place. Now she would just settle for having a peaceful life for herself, where she doesn't hurt anyone and has people who love her. The Avengers. Vision.

"I know some people who may be able to like, hack into some important systems," Scott suggests.

"Because let's give them extra motivation, am I right?" Rhodey scoffs.

Scott shrugs. "What do we have to lose?"

"Steve, Tony, we should talk," T'Challa says. "And you." He beckons to the Guardians. Thor's with his father. None of the Wakandan medicines seem to be working on his Asgardian body.

Vision frowns. "I should be a part of this conversation."

Probably she should too. But Wanda's exhausted. "Go." She waves her hand and wanders over to a coffee pot. She pours herself a cup and takes a sip. _Too hot._ She winces.

"Hey," says Peter Parker, sidling up to her.

"Hey," Wanda says, taking another sip. The steam bathes her face.

"So," Peter says, looking at her and Sam, who leans against a window. "You're friends with that Winter Soldier guy, aren't you?"

"He's a friend of my friend. Close enough," Wanda says. The coffee tastes bitter, and strong. Good. She needs it.

"I guess," Sam says, but there's a sadness in his tone.

_Natasha's dead._

What happened? Wanda wonders, for the umpteenth time.

"Like, I heard about the spy girl," Peter says.

"Natasha," Wanda cuts in. _She had a name. Like Pietro had a name._

"Yeah. Natasha. But if she and Bucky were up to something with Thanos the space monster, wouldn't it make sense to ask him questions?"

"We tried," Sam says. "You think you're the first one to think of that? He won't answer any. I don't know if he recognizes me or not."

Wanda's lost her parents and her brother, but she wonders what it would be like to lose someone while they were still alive. Like Steve with Bucky, like Thor with his father. Are they still the person you loved, even if they hate you? If they can't see you?

 _Yes_.

 _What makes a person a person?_ Wanda wonders.

She knows if Vision were to forget her, fight against her because he didn't know her, she wouldn't give up. She loves him.

"Maybe I'm just being a stupid kid," Peter says, raising his hands as if in defense. "And this idea might be totally stupid. But maybe there's more to the story."

"Of course there is," Sam snorts. "But we can't get it out of him."

"Maybe it'd help if you listened instead of accusing? Like this one time, my teacher accused me of cheating on a test when I was in third grade, and I didn't say anything because I felt so embarrassed and confused, and then when she sent me to the principal's office and they called my Aunt May, Aunt May got it out of me that I hadn't. They didn't believe me, but she did, and that was all I needed."

"What are you saying?" Wanda asks. She takes another sip of coffee.

"Maybe he feels like you're all thinking the worst. And maybe that's what happened and maybe it's not, but if you ask him and you don't, like, accuse him or whatever, he might be more forthcoming." Peter shrugs. "Just a thought."

Wanda glances to Sam, raising her eyebrows.

T'Challa marches back out to them, his mouth set in a grim line. Gamora follows, her arms crossed.

"They called, didn't they?" Rhodey guesses.

"They want Vision. And Bucky Barnes," T'Challa confirms. "We have twenty-four hours." And he swears then, dragging his hands over his scalp.

Refusing would mean signing the death warrant for everyone in his country. Potentially for people across the globe. Wanda's coffee burns her stomach.

"What do they want Vision for?" she asks, voice shaking.

"To trade him. Maybe. With Thanos."

"Thanos has contacted them?" demands Scott.

"Not yet. But they've heard rumors. Enough. And Xandar has contacted them," Gamora says.

"Freakin' Xandar. Buncha idiots we shouldn't've saved," gripes Rocket as he emerges.

"I'd have liked to see the secretary's face when aliens contacted them," laughs Scott. Wanda glares. His face falls. "Sorry."

"What can we do?" Sam asks.

T'Challa raises his hands, tilts his neck towards the ceiling as if looking for some divine sign.

"Talk to Thor," Gamora puts in. "That's where Steve and Tony went. And Vision."

 _And if he has no ideas_? Wanda stares at the dark brown liquid swirling in her cup.

"You don't need to worry," Clint mutters to Wanda, clutching his bow. "They aren't taking Vision. I'm not losing any more friends."

* * *

The door creaks as it opens. Bucky's head throbs. It feels like something's been clawing and pounding the space behind his eyes. The despair curdling in his chest drowns him, but he can't hurt himself because of the restraints T'Challa had him placed in.

"Hey," Sam says. "Sorry, I'm not Steve."

 _Why are you here?_ Bucky wonders. But he's not sure he cares. Nothing matters. He's going to die and Thanos is going to win.

"All right, keep giving me the silent treatment. I bet you were a real fun kid to be around when you were pissed off." Sam drags a stool over and sits on it, staring at Bucky's face. Bucky shifts his eyes away.

"Did I just get a reaction?" Sam mocks. "But seriously, dude. I want to help you. We want to help you."

"No one can," Bucky ekes out.

"Holy shit, you _said_ something?"

Bucky closes his eyes.

"Okay, look, I get if you don't want to talk about whatever happened up there. Or the past eighty years." Sam sighs. "But come on, man. Steve and I—T'Challa—we're just trying to help you and—"

"There's no point." He'd give everything if they could. His throat aches.

"Okay then." Sam stands up. Bucky cracks his eyes open. "How about you help us then? We know several vague things about some sort of space god trying to wipe out the universe with magic gems and one of them is in Vision's head. Even Thor's confused about his plans, though, and also Thor's a little distracted with his father. If you know _anything_ , we need you." He sits back down. "Gamora said that the aliens who captured you work for Thanos. Can you tell me anything?"

"You aren't asking me about Natasha?"

Sam grimaces. "Not yet."

"She wasn't supposed to come with me. She got caught up in all of it by accident. And then she saved my skin."

"Caught up in what?" Sam asks, frowning.

_You shouldn't have died. I should be dead._

"Look, I know you didn't kill her," Sam says. "Steve knows it, too."

"Yes, I did," Bucky whispers.

"No," Sam says. "You're lying. Remember that spider kid? The one who pinned us down at the airport? He even thinks something else is going on."

Bucky furrows his brow. "Why is he here?"

"That's a good question."

Anger flares. _Dam_ mit, why does everyone have to have so much blind faith in him? "Is it really so hard to believe?"

"Yeah," Sam snorts. "But if you're going to insist you killed her, _how_ did that happen?"

"She wasn't supposed to come along. I made a bad decision. " Trusting a trickster.

"So you didn't actually pull the trigger."

"No."

"Never thought you did," Sam says. "Please, Bucky, tell me what you can. I'm not trying to exonerate you. I just want to keep the universe from getting destroyed. You don't want that on your conscience."

Sam's benevolent manipulation reminds Bucky of Natasha. "The story's stranger than you think." Loki. Thanos. Torture rooms and explosions. Sounds like a movie.

"I'm here for strange."

* * *

_All these people._

Vision can't look any of them in the eye.

"I'll fly it into space again," Tony declares.

"Without a portal, that's not going to work," T'Challa says, crossing his arms.

"Why can't we just take on your government?" asks Peter Quill. "I can call some friends. They can probably make it here in time."

"After you screwed over Yondu, he'll probably side with the government," retorts Rocket.

"I am Groot," agrees the tree.

"We can fight them ourselves," growls Drax.

"No one can fight a nuclear weapon," Vision murmurs.

"They've contacted you?" Gamora asks T'Challa. She leans back against a window seat, a bored look settling on her features. Vision doubts she's anything close to bored, however.

"With the same demands Peter Parker warned us of," T'Challa confirms. The spider kid winces as if to say, _sorry to be the bearer of bad news._

"Can Asgard open a portal?" Clint questions, arm around Laura. He peers at Thor and Sif.

"Possibly, but we don't know what harm such a weapon would do there. I can't allow my kingdom to potentially be destroyed." Thor cringes, and a haunted look passes over his face. "They can't all die because of me."

"I cannot allow this either," T'Challa states, pressing his fingers together.

"There's an obvious solution," Vision says. Why does he want to scream and cry at what it is? Why does he want his life, as if he was human? "I'll turn myself over."

"Like hell you will," Wanda snaps.

And now he's irritated, because she's giving him hope and he can't have that. "You didn't like me telling you what to do—"

"Fair point," Tony agrees.

" _Not_ fair." Wanda glowers at Tony. "I won't let you do this, Vis. If I have to—" Red glows from her hands, burns in her eyes.

"I agree with Wanda," Bruce says. "You're the—you're supposed to be a protector of humanity."

"And if I can protect Wakanda by handing myself over—"

"You'll be buying time, nothing more," Steve interjects. "Thanos—"

"I'll destroy myself before I let Thanos get a hand on this gem," Vision says. "There's got to be a way to do that."

"No." Wanda leaps to her feet. "You can't do that."

"I have to." Why does the thought throb in his chest, squirm like something's trying to escape? He could scream and cry, but he has to swallow it. "I—"

"I don't trust that you'll be able to do that," Sif says quietly. "You could destroy yourself. You cannot destroy that stone."

Rhodey groans. "So it's hopeless?"

"I can buy time," Vision insists.

"Why are you so determined to end your life?" Wanda demands.

"I'm not determined to do that at all!" Vision shouts. Everyone gapes at him. "I just—"

"Everyone would still die," Gamora says. "You'd accomplish nothing."

"Why can't we reason with them?" asks Peter Parker.

"You're cute, kid," Tony tells him.

 _If only more humans could be that 'cute_.' Vision closes his eyes. "I don't want to die. But I don't know what else to do." _There are no good options._

_There is no side of life here. It's instant death, or delayed death._

"Hold the presses," calls Sam as he barges into the room. Vision's eyes fly open. "So I was just talking to Bucky."

Clint scowls. Tony stiffens, and Steve's eyes light up. "He talked to you?"

"Yeah, he did. We're in a huge mess. Way huger than we thought." He jabs his finger at Vision. "But you can't turn yourself over. It'll only make everything worse."

"What did he tell you?" Thor demands.

"Take a seat. You especially," Sam says. "Your brother's involved."

Thor's eyes darken.

"In short, Peter," Sam says, turning to the kid. "Your idea is best. We need to try and buy time. We need you all—Gamora, Starlord, Rocket, Drax—to—"

"And Groot!" interrupts Rocket.

"And Groot," Sam amends. "To help us. We need to convince them Thanos won't listen, or leave earth alone."

"What did he say about Loki?" Sif questions.

"I'm getting there." Sam glares at Vision. "You aren't turning yourself over. If you do, everyone dies."

Sam's too emotional to make logical sense to Vision right now, but he craves to believe him.

"I agree," says Gamora. "Our only option is to try and negotiate."

"And if that fails?" T'Challa asks. "My people—"

"We fight. And we won't let that bomb go off."

Wishful thinking, child's play.

And Vision needs to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... this chapter got exceedingly long, and so even though I said Steve and Bucky would get to talk and Natasha would arrive, that wound up not happening because I like to keep my chapters under a certain length. I'm really sorry-on the bright side, I'll post that chapter tomorrow. So two chapters this weekend! And the next one is all feels.


	14. Chapter 14

When T'Challa's phone erupts into its ringtone, everyone stares at him. "Speaker?" requests Scott.

Wanda keeps bouncing baby Nathaniel, hoping to listen. The baby smiles at her and Wanda laughs. If she's about to die, she want to cling to whatever happiness she has left.

"Yo," says a familiar voice. Steve's jaw drops. Bruce rubs his face.

"Who is this?" T'Challa demands.

"Name's Nick Fury. This is the King of Wakanda, right?"

"Fury!" Tony yells. "About time!"

"He's the one who assembled you all in the first place, right?" asks Peter Parker, eyes wide.

"Yes," Thor breathes, leaning in.

"Okay then," Laura says. "Kids? Come with me." Wanda hands over the baby, scrunching up her face.

"So, Fury," Clint says. "Please tell me you know the mess we're in."

"Well, you're not in that much of a mess anymore." Fury chuckles. "Let's just say no nukes will be going off. For maybe, like, forever. Their code's been scrambled."

"How is that possible?" T'Challa demands. Steve claps his hands against the side of his face.

Wanda hardly dares to hope. She glances at Vision, whose mouth hangs open.

"Well, in all fairness, you might have to worry about them showing up on your doorstep now," Fury admits.

"What?" T'Challa yelps.

"Fury, can you back up and explain?" Steve requests. "We're all a little confused."

"Putting it mildly," grumbles Rhodey.

"Someone came to warn me."

"Who?" demands Bruce. Jane sits next to him, frowning. Thor told her to leave, and she refused. Wanda respects that.

"Is that Banner? You're back?" Fury's impressed.

"Fury—Natasha's—" Clint starts.

"We'll talk when I arrive. I'm gonna be there soon."

"What? Won't they shoot you down?" Sam asks. "Do you need me to fly in?"

"Nah, we're traveling a different way. A new way, for me at least. See you soon."

"How did you find out precisely where my palace is?" T'Challa shouts.

 _Click_.

"Is someone getting fired?" Scott asks.

"Maybe." T'Challa paces.

"He doesn't know about Loki, though, does he?" Thor asks.

"I'd assume not," Clint grunts, grabbing his bow.

"I really don't fault your friend," Sif says quietly, to Steve. "Loki's good at deceiving people. And from what you tell me, he was desperate."

Steve exhales. "I know."

"You should talk to him," Wanda says. "I'm sure he feels responsible for the nuclear threat, too. Depending on how much you shared, Sam."

"Everything," Sam confirms.

"I know when I felt like all those lives were lost—and endangered—because of me—" Wanda bites her lip. "I felt like I was a bad person, and when you feel like that, it's kind of impossible to go on without imploding."

"Not me. I'm more than okay with it," announces Rocket. Drax huffs.

Steve nods. "Call me when Fury gets here."

"You never were a bad person," Vision tells her, taking her hand.

"I allied myself with Ultron to get revenge on the very people we're in this room with," Wanda points out. She can still see their faces, her countrymen. Her brother.

_All those bullets…_

"You made a bad choice," Vision says. "You weren't a bad person."

"I wasn't exactly on the side of life, and isn't that your whole premise for good and bad?" Wanda retorts.

Vision frowns. "I'm not sure anymore."

Behind them, Tony watches with his arms crossed.

* * *

"Hey." The door cracks open, and Bucky sees _Steve_ , of all people, entering. His heart leaps. Guilt squirms, tethers reaching up to grasp and drown any hope. Bucky drops his eyes.

_Yes, Steve, I made a deal with a mortal enemy of you and your friends because I didn't trust that you would be able to fix me. And now Nat's dead._

"Bucky?" Steve asks, coming closer.

What can he even say? Sam was easier to talk to. Bucky has way less history with Sam. Steve will either forgive him like always or hate him, and Bucky doesn't think he can handle _either_ of those.

"Which Bucky are you right now?" Steve asks, and Bucky flinches. Steve sighs. _There's your answer._

"Look at me," Steve requests.

Bucky's neck stiffens. The floor's tiles run uneven.

"Look at me, _please_." Steve's voice catches.

 _Dammit_. Bucky cranes his neck and meets his friend's eyes. Steve's jaw is set. He swallows.

"Did Sam tell you everything?" Bucky blurts out.

"Yeah." Steve exhales.

"I'm an idiot."

Steve doesn't say anything. He drops down next to Bucky. "Maybe."

Oh, for God's sake. _You're still that innocent, optimistic kid, aren't you?_ " _Maybe?_ I make a deal with someone who tried to take over the world, and that's all you can say?"

"Does making an idiotic choice make you an idiot?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know. I haven't been able to make my own choices in… a long time. And once I can, I make a terrible one. Natasha shouldn't have been dragged in, but she was. The Kree shouldn't have shown up, but they did. I shouldn't have been able to get the infinity gauntlet, but I did, and now it's in the hands of a lunatic."

"How did you get it?" Steve inquires.

Bucky snorts. "Natasha used the words. The code words. To turn me back into the Winter Soldier. We knew each other before, you know. We worked together once. Twice. A few times."

Steve's eyes widen. _Nat never told you, did she?_

And there are things Bucky can never tell him. _Nat loved me, and she's dead._ "I'm more useful as a weapon than I am as a person."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is." Bucky leans his head back against the cool wall. He can't live if he stays the Winter Soldier, and he can't go back to Bucky Barnes because he's not that person anymore. He's a mess, a project gone wrong in all the ways he could go wrong. And still Steve sits next to him, naïve. " _Why_ are you still here? Why are you still my friend? Are you that _blind?_ "

"No, Bucky, I can see," Steve snaps. "You're the one who can't. You're still—look, I know you're not the same person you were when we were kids fooling around in Brooklyn. Neither am I. But there's still a part of that in you, and—"

"And what if you don't like the rest of me?" Bucky asks. "You know I'm an assassin. It doesn't matter that I wouldn't have done it if I had my own mind."

"I doubt it," Steve says, anger flashing in his eyes. "You're my friend. It doesn't matter what you become, what you choose—I'll still always—you'll always be my friend. I'll always care."

Bucky covers his face with his one hand. _Why? Why?_ Steve's too good of a person. He's always been too good.

"When you fell, I thought—that was the worst moment in my life. It still is. I couldn't—I felt like a failure," Steve admits. "And you were alive the whole time—"

"Sort of. And you couldn't have known." Bucky's not sure what he would call his life as the Winter Soldier. Was it a life, when it was dedicated to stealing the lives of others?

"What happened?" Steve asks. "What did they do to make you—to—do you remember?"

Bucky's back stiffens. "I remember… some of it."

"What do you remember?" Steve asks.

His mind doesn't like venturing down those paths. Bucky swallows. He can hear Steve breathing, in and out. "I remember waking up and it felt like all my bones were shattered. And I looked over and my arm was gone. And there was this scientist—they kept injecting me with these substances, whatever they were, that made my bones feel like they were melting. They put my metal arm on, and all the while they kept playing those words, and recordings. Whenever I asked a question about you or about anything, really, they would hit me, beat me. And then I was asleep for awhile, and then there were more recordings, and more—" His fist tightens. "More _everything_ , and then I killed people, and I remember their faces, I remembered their faces, and I couldn't have told you that I had a name at that point, or that there was anything beyond that lab they kept me in. That there ever had been anything. I didn't remember." _I should have._

"They tortured you?" Steve's voice shakes with rage.

"Are you really that surprised?" Bucky asks wryly.

"No. I figured. But—" Steve blows out his breath.

"I didn't matter. I mattered because I was a tool, something they could use, that never failed. Any time I showed any glimmer of humanity—" Bucky clenches his fist and thinks of Natasha. "They sent me to reconditioning. And I'd come out with little to no memories again. If I asked questions, they beat me." He smirks. "I remember when I first saw you again. You called me Bucky, and it confused me because it was like just under the surface, like I should know, but I couldn't figure out who Bucky was or why you were asking me that instead of trying to kill me. I asked why you acted as if you knew me, and they slapped me. And fixed that problem for awhile, until that fight in the helicarrier."

"And you saved me from the river," Steve finishes.

"Yeah."

"You know," Steve begins. "Even if your mind is never fully healed, I'll still be there for you."

"Why?" Bucky asks again. _You stupid kid._

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not an idiot."

"No," Bucky admits. "I'm currently the one who wins _that_ title."

"Maybe," Steve agrees. "But Buck, I need you in the upcoming fight. Against Thanos. You're the best hope we've got besides Thor—maybe better than Thor, because you beat him before."

"I don't know how helpful I'll be. I don't want to go back to that mindless—every time I come out, I'm scared I won't the next time. I don't want to die without my mind."

"I won't let you." Steve wraps his arms around him, and God, it's been forever since Bucky hugged anyone. He doesn't even know what to do.

"Hey!" Sam strides into the room. "Hate to break up the Bro-fest, but we've got Fury in the house. We think. Something just beamed down Asgardian style."

"You coming?" Steve clambers to his feet and holds out his hand.

"Is Tony there?" Bucky asks.

"He won't kill you when there's bigger fish to fry," Sam says. "I don't think."

"Come on."

Bucky lets Steve pull him to his feet. He stumbles out into the hallway, to a conference room where the rest of the Avengers, including Thor, have gathered. Clint perches like a hawk on the edge of the windowsill, Bruce pacing nearby. Thor and a woman dressed in armor sit stiff at the table. Clint and Tony both scowl.

"Hey," Scott says, waving.

"Where's Fury?" Steve asks.

"Coming up with T'Challa and Wanda," Vision responds just as an African-American man with an eye patch strides inside. "You really don't need to worry," he calls over his shoulder.

"Long time no see," Tony comments.

Fury shakes his head as if to say _what the hell have you all been up to_? He peers around the room, taking in Sif, Scott, the Guardians, and Peter Parker. His eyes linger on Bucky. "Roster's really grown."

_Me?_

"Good, 'cause it sounds like we're gonna need it," Fury continues, as T'Challa walks into the conference room, followed by a woman with red hair.

_Oh my God._

"Nat!" scream Steve, Clint, and Bruce. "You're alive!" cries Thor.

"Holy shit," gasps Sam, exchanging a look with Rhodey. Tony pinches the bridge of his nose as if to keep from crying.

Bucky can't breathe. He saw that temple explode. She couldn't have survived. _How?_

_Steve saw you fall._

Natasha wraps her arms around her friends. Bruce, Sif, the Guardians, and Bucky both hang back, although Sif, Peter Quill, and Gamora exchange smiles. Gamora's eyes carry a haunted quality with them. "Are you crying, Clint?"

"He said you were dead," Clint mutters.

Natasha meets Bucky's eyes. He takes a step back as she pushes past the rest of the Avengers and races towards him, throwing her arms around him. She doesn't speak.

"How are you alive?" Bucky ekes out. "I thought—I saw—"

"Master of illusion," Natasha mumbles.

He's coming undone, falling apart. His hand shakes, his breath catches, throat tightens. Something wet hits his eyes. "I was so—you—"

Natasha grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him down, her lips closing around his. And it's like diving into fresh water, like he's finding his mind, like a second chance because she's here, alive, and it's not a dream tainted by what will never be. She's _here_.

"Holy mother of—"

"What the blasted hell?" Tony demands.

"I am Groot!"

"When did this become a thing?" Clint squeaks.

"Now that's better than tears," comments Rocket.

"I like it," declares Drax.

Bucky pulls away, and she's smiling at him. Beyond her, Sam shrugs and Steve's mouth hangs open. Vision smiles.

Natasha's eyes skitter back to Bruce, who hugs himself. _What happened between you?_ Bucky wonders. "I told Loki we had to come back—" Natasha starts.

"Loki?" Thor demands.

"You can ask him yourself," Wanda announces, entering the room behind the god Bucky's only seen pictures of, wrapping in what looks like Wanda's red magic working as ropes. And he does not look pleased to be there.

* * *

"You monster!" Thor lunges at Loki, but the red witch sends him backwards.

"Not now, Thor!"

Sif's blade aims directly at him, a scowl embedded in her face. Bruce glowers from the back of the room. Losing his girlfriend probably hasn't helped the Hulk.

And Jane Foster appears. Brilliant. Everyone who hates Loki is gathered in this room—Iron Man, the righteous captain, the hawk, who currently has a n arrow drawn back in his bow and is probably itching to release it. The stupid one-eyed agent.

And Natasha and Bucky, who don't hate him.

And Gamora. She takes a step towards him, blocking Clint's aim. "You came."

"You left Thanos," Loki manages. "I'm impressed."

She cocks her head. T'Challa, the earthly king, steps closer to her. Sif's blade rises.

"Stop!" Gamora shouts.

"He's kind of important when it comes to taking down Thanos," Natasha says. "Considering he has the infinity gauntlet."

"Hand it over," Thor orders, eyebrows clumped together. He knows what's become of Odin, Loki realizes. Guilt chews at his stomach.

"Why would I hand over my only bargaining chip?" he demands, lifting his chin. _When you're weak, act like you're strong._

It's what Odin taught him.

_When you want to cower, keep your head held high._

_I think that backfired for both of your kids,_ Loki thinks.

"If you want to live, you will," Sif snaps.

"Still trailing along after my brother, hoping he'll notice you?" Loki mocks.

Gamora glares at him. "What is your problem?"

"I'll give it to you," Loki says. "Gamora. No one else." _You I trust. You've seen Thanos_. "You know it won't be long until he comes for it."

" _We_ know," says Peter Quill. "And we like being alive, so we're not going to let him."

"You killed some of my friends in your attack," snarls what looks like a teenage boy. His hands curl into fists.

"No punching yet," admonishes Iron Man.

"What happens after I give it over?" Loki asks. His pulse hammers in his throat. Natasha and Bucky exchange a glance.

"You'll tell us what you know," Captain America states.

"Don't make us tell you," Sam chuckles.

Loki flinches. Thor frowns.

"Uh, poor choice of words," hisses Rhodey.

"Here." Gamora steps closer, holding her hand out. Her eyes meet his and there's no animosity, no pity. Just acceptance. It's what Loki has always admired about her.

"Nebula?" he asks.

She shakes her head, and now there's sorrow. "I don't know."

Waiting for her sister, who never showed her any kindness. Loki's eyes skitter to Thor and his heart seizes.

Jane backs up to Bruce, murmuring to him.

Loki glances to the red witch, who lessens her magic. Loki pulls out the gauntlet and offers it to Gamora. She hesitates, and then snatches it.

The magic tightens again.

"Thanos has no plans to work out a deal with your government," Loki blurts out as Gamora turns away. "Don't let them trade him for peace. You won't get any." He nods to the purple cyborg.

"I know," T'Challa says softly. Gamora hands it over to him. Loki bites his tongue. "Wanda, take him to the room we kept Bucky in."

"So who gets to interrogate him?" asks a man Loki doesn't recognize. _Is this the ant man?_

"Me," Thor growls.

Loki clenches his fists.

"No," says Bucky. "It should be me. And Wanda."

The woman nods. "We can do it."

"No way," Tony says. "I don't trust you."

"Why you?" demands Sif. "We know him best."

"Maybe," Bucky agrees. "But—" He glances at Wanda.

Wanda leads Loki towards the door. She pauses. "We know what it's like to be murderers."

Tony closes his eyes. "So do I."


	15. Chapter 15

"Nat!" Laura throws her arms around her. "Oh, God, I'm so—when I heard that you were—all I could think of was the last things I said to you, how horrible they were—"

"It's okay," Natasha assures her, holding her friend. "You were upset. We all were." Tears sting her eyes.

Her friends had _mourned_. They cared. The shock and amazement on their faces—Wanda hugging her, T'Challa shaking his head with a smile, Clint, Steve, Sam, Rhodey, Thor, _Tony_ —they're all relieved she's alive _. I actually matter._

_I'm their friend._

"Are you a ghost?" asks Lila. "Mom said you—"

"I'm not a ghost. Loki—someone saved my life," Natasha says. _With illusions._

Lila tilts her head and swings back and forth. Clint shakes his head. He covers his mouth and blows out his breath as if he still can't believe it.

Natasha laughs. "Here. See?" She takes Lila's hand. "You're not going through me. I'm here and I'm real."

"I think being a ghost would be cool," Cooper declares.

"I don't," grumbles Clint.

Natasha snorts.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Laura says quickly, taking her son's hand as Clint grabs his daughter.

Natasha spins around to see Bruce standing there. She could punch him. Kick him. Embrace him. All of the ideas spin and spin and spin in her mind and she can only shake her head.

"Glad you're okay," Bruce says, offering her a smile.

"You—" Rage surges. "You _left_ , and you didn't tell—and you were in _space_ —"

"Not intentionally, but yeah. It was safer. Or so I figured." Bruce shrugs.

"Safer for others," Natasha snaps.

" _Exactly_."

"Not for me. Not for _us_ ," Natasha says, gesturing towards the empty room that, moments ago, was full of people who love her and whom she loves.

"I can only imagine what havoc I would have wreaked during that Nigeria operation. And fighting each other." Bruce shakes his head.

"You could have offered us logic. Kept us together," Natasha points out.

"Maybe, maybe not." Bruce shifts, clamping his hands over his wrists. "So, Loki saved you."

"And you," Natasha says. "Both of us."

"I'm so confused." Bruce groans.

Silence elapses. Natasha worries her lips between her teeth.

"So… you and Bucky, huh?" Bruce asks.

Natasha shrugs. "We knew each other for years. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

"You don't have to be defensive. I'm happy for you."

"And this is the point where you tell me that bullshit about you being a monster and not worth—"

"Nah, you chose an assassin, so." Bruce shrugs.

Natasha snorts. "You still think that, don't you?"

"Don't you?" he asks.

"Maybe." Natasha bites down on her lip. She thinks of Bucky, whom she knows isn't a monster, and Bruce isn't either. Maybe Loki isn't even, not really. "I'm trying not to."

"Good for you," Bruce tells her, and she wonders if he sees her the same way she sees him: not a monster. A person, worthy of respect. Someone he loves, whom he used to be in love with. Maybe. Maybe love's too strong a word for him, albeit not for Natasha.

"We should probably go see what's happening," Natasha says, pushing ahead and heading down the hallway.

Bruce nods. "If we wind up having to fight—"

"I'll still calm you down," Natasha tells him, stopping and turning.

He smiles.

* * *

"You don't have another option," Loki repeats to Wanda, to Bucky, to Tony. "You have to fight Thanos. And you won't win."

"I kinda remember you telling us something similar when the Chitauri invaded New York," Tony tells him, scowling down at him. "Also, he did steal that Guantlet."

"Stealing it is easier than taking Thanos down. He still has the Power, Time, and Soul Gems. Asgard has the Tessaract, and the Aether is—"

"Gamora's said she's able to get it," Wanda says. "And we know where the Mind gem is."

"None of them are powerful enough to fight the stones Thanos already has," Loki says. "Even with the Gauntlet. I wish that wasn't the case, but—"

"Considering how often you tried to kill your brother, not to mention the world, and oh yeah, supposedly you allied with this crazy space beast, we're a little skeptical. At least I am," Tony says.

" _Tony_ ," Wanda snaps. "I tried to kill you too, remember? Pietro and I both did. He died saving Clint."

"You're different than he is."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"We know what you did to your father," Wanda says to Loki. "He's here. Not in his right mind, not most of the time."

Loki grimaces. He can imagine how enraged Thor is. _Would this turn even Mother against me, if she was alive_? "I didn't mess with his brain. That's—I don't know what caused that."

"Sure," snorts Tony.

"Tony," Wanda warns again.

Bucky regards Loki with a strange look. _You know I'm telling the truth for once, don't you?_ Loki thinks.

"Why did you come back?" Bucky asks. "If there's no hope?"

"Natasha didn't want you to suffer," Loki tells him.

"And that's all?" Bucky raises his eyebrows.

"Yes." Loki thinks. Maybe. There might be a slight glimmer of something, a hope, but it's not worth stoking.

"We have a problem." T'Challa strides into the room. Here's a king that Loki actually respects.

"What now?" Tony demands.

"Sharon Carter called us. Officials from six nations are demanding a meeting."

"And that's all they're demanding?" Loki mocks.

Bucky swallows. He knows perfectly well what they'll want.

"We can negotiate," Tony says. "Buy time."

"They want Vision and Bucky, don't they?" Wanda asks.

"And I'm your bargaining chip, aren't I?" Loki asks. He knows Thor's listening, can hear. He knows they all can. _Are you happy now, Sif?_ "You know I could kill them all if you try to hand me over to them."

"Actually, I don't know that. Not if a certain Hulk's involved," Tony quips.

"What will they do to me?" Loki asks, ignoring the Iron Man's words. "If I agree to let myself be handed over."

Bucky studies the floor. _We both know, don't we?_

"They might put you in that prison they put us in," Wanda says. "Strap a collar to your neck to shock you if you move."

 _Go ahead and scream. No one will hear you._ And Loki bit his tongue because he wouldn't give them that satisfaction. _Never_.

During the early days when he fell into Thanos's realm, he held out hope. Maybe Father was looking for him. But he remembered No, Loki, and knew he wasn't, he was as good as dead to them. They probably wiped every shred of his existence away. The royal Frost Giant pet.

 _You knew I'd fail, didn't you?_ Loki thinks. Thanos didn't care if he succeeded in taking over earth or lost. As long as death collected enough souls in her arms.

Loki closes his eyes, presses his head into the corner.

"Hey, we aren't done!" Tony snaps.

"It might be best if we tried to come up with a plan," T'Challa says. "To teach them that Wakanda will never answer demands again."

"Loki," Bucky tries.

"Seems like you and Captain Righteousness made up," Loki says, keeping his eyes shut. Darkness is a welcome friend. "Good for you." _People can see the person through the monster, but I was born like this._ His skin fades to blue, and then he stops it. A threat? Maybe.

He feels like he's waking up to realize that he's buried himself under legions of ocean.

* * *

"I've never seen him like that before," Thor stammers, watching on a security camera as Loki's skin fades to blue. Wanda, Bucky, and Tony all back up. And then it goes back to normal.

_What is normal, for Loki?_

"I saw it once," Gamora comments. "When Thanos wanted to humiliate him. He stripped all the illusions Loki didn't even know he was casting away."

 _Wanted to humiliate_? Thor remembers when Volstagg and Fandral mocked Loki when he and Thor were only children. Thor laughed.

"Should we tell your father?" Sif questions.

"No," Thor says. His chest feels as if there's a knife inside it. "I can't hurt him any more."

"You do realize he might be the best bargaining chip we have, don't you?" Sam asks.

"I don't like bargaining with lives," mutters Steve. "Even a terrible one like Loki's."

"They're not going to kill him. Just imprison him," Fury says.

"That worked so well for Asgard," retorts Steve.

"In Asgard's defense, it was Thor and I who broke him out," mumbles Sif.

"They know your father's here, too, Thor," T'Challa says.

"What?" Thor clutches Mjolnir.

"They did not threaten him," T'Challa clarifies, hands held in the air.

"I'm going to see my father," Thor says, spinning on his heel and stalking towards Father's room. He half-expects Sif or Jane to follow. Neither of them do, and he's grateful.

Thor pushes open the door to find Odin sitting in his bed, staring vacantly out the window. "Father?"

Father doesn't flinch. Or blink. Sucking in his breath, Thor strides over. His father's chest rises and falls.

"Father, Loki's here," Thor tries. Odin still stares. "He might be handed over to Midgard. For justice." _And to save my friends._

Even if he's better able to help us protect against Thanos, Thor thinks. Maybe they can break him out. Is that dishonest? Does it matter?

"Father, please," Thor tries, taking his father's hand. It's cold, and limp. And then Father's head turns, and he faces Thor, and Thor's heart swells. "Father—"

But his eyes look past Thor. _Vision_.

"What are you doing here?" Thor demands.

"I was wondering," Vision begins carefully, stepping closer. "If this thing in my head—the Mind Stone—can help him."

"I don't know," Thor says. "And I'd be remiss to try. It's doubtful we'd be able to use it without hurting you."

"Dying to save someone else, give them another chance, is an acceptable way to go," Vision says.

"Not for Wanda, I don't think," Thor remarks.

Vision shrugs. "No. Not for Wanda. She still grieves her brother. He did save Clint, though."

"You're safeguarding that gem anyways," Thor says. "And you're best suited for the job."

"Am I?" Vision asks. "I feel myself becoming more and more human each day. I hurt Rhodey. I'm afraid of dying, and I'm afraid of hurting more people. I love Wanda."

"I don't think those are bad things," Thor observes. Father rocks back and forth, muttering. "Father?"

The door bangs open. Father yells. Thor prepares to swing his hammer.

"Sorry," gasps out Peter Quill. "But I just wanted to tell you that they're here. Some hot blonde is with them too and Steve says she'll help us. Maybe."

"No!" Father rages, grabbing Thor's arm and practically ripping it out of its socket. "No!"

"Father, I'll be back," Thor promises. "But I can't miss this—they'll—they'll decide Loki's fate—"

"Need help?" Peter Quill asks, watching the frail man, the god, moan and beat his own head. Peter swallows, and a strange look crosses his face like a shadow.

"No, he'll be fine," Thor insists as he tries to get up again. Father shouts. "Father!"

"Can he not come with us?" Vision inquires.

"As you can see," Thor grunts. "I can hardly control him."

"Let us help," Vision says, floating closer. Thor hesitates, and then helps Father to his feet. Father leans against him, stumbling along.

They're outside then, on the balcony that Natasha and Bucky vanished from. Sunlight pours over the Avengers and the Guardians, Sif, and Jane, blinding them. "Why are you here?" Thor hisses to Jane.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she retorts.

"Laura Barton's not."

"Laura has children." Jane tries to smile. Her lips tremble. "This is hardly more dangerous that that time on Svartalfheim with Malekith."

"She has a point, Thor," Sif agrees.

"Bucky's inside?" T'Challa whispers to Steve, who nods.

"Guarding Loki with Fury and Peter Parker," Steve adds.

"Are you going to invite us in?" hollers Thaddeus Ross.

"In my country, people don't demand hospitality," T'Challa replies. "Especially after threatening to nuke us before your codes got jumbled. I hope Russia doesn't find out."

Natasha smirks.

 _How did they do that exactly_? Thor wonders. _Wouldn't be risky?_

 _Loki,_ Thor realizes. He spots a blond woman standing near Ross, one hand clutching her arm, a gun pointed at the ground. Steve winces. _Sharon?_

"We have two requests," Ross announces. "And then we'll get our of your way."

"I am Groot!" roars the tree.

Rocket spits. "You're right, Groot. That is what they always say when they never plan to leave you alone."

"First, we want the Winter Soldier handed over to face justice for his crimes. Second, we want that creature you created, Tony Stark, to be handed over to save us all." The sun dims as a cloud rolls overhead. Thor can see Ross squint. "I'm surprised to see you with them, Stark, Rhodes. After all they've done."

"My accident was just that: an accident," Rhodey says darkly. "Not worth wasting any energy that could go into healing with hating."

"Didn't Barnes kill your parents, Stark?"

Thor watches as Tony's jaw sets. "And I'll never forgive him. But I don't know that what you want is the best way to handle this either, Ross."

"Locking us up worked _so_ well for you last time," taunts Scott.

"Really, dude?" Clint hisses.

"You have a little girl, don't you?" asks Ross.

"Are you threatening children now, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha demands, taking a step closer. Scott blanches. Clint grips Scott's arm and mumbles something into his ear.

"That's despicable," Sif declares.

"I see the Hulk has decided to reemerge," Ross says, scowling. "And you, Thor."

"You aren't getting Bruce," declares T'Challa. "And you are not getting Barnes or Vision, either. You do not get to make the demands here."

"You know, you guys are supposed to save the world," Ross says, face flushing. "And you're recklessly endangering it."

"Bullshit," says Clint. "Total bullshit. You're the one threatening children."

"Besides, we have a plan," interrupts Gamora.

"Who are you, the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Do not insult her," warns Drax. "She is my friend."

"We will go to Thanos," Gamora declares. "I'm his daughter. We can figure this out. We can take him down. But we need Vision, and Bucky Barnes, to do this. If you let them—us—go, we'll take care of those problems for you."

Ross cackles. "And how about the problem of justice? For all the people Barnes murdered? How about ensuring safety when you have a time-bomb like Banner running with you?"

Bruce flinches. Thor wants to throw Mjolnir at this arrogant bastard's skull. Odin moans.

"What can he do for you?" Natasha demands. "To prove he helps humanity? Taking down Loki isn't enough. Ultron isn't enough. When will it—"

"We haven't forgotten his rampages, either," Ross retorts.

"He has saved more lives than—" Sharon starts.

"Than he's taken?" Ross shakes his head. Bruce's face looks distinctly green.

"It's okay," Jane murmurs to Bruce. "You won't hulk out here. Look at me."

"I took thousands and thousands of lives with my weapons," Tony offers.

"That's not murder."

"What, because the state approves of it?"

Thor doesn't want to think of Jotunheim, of all the beings he's killed. He keeps his hand on his father's back. He can't speak. Not now.

Wanda shrinks behind Vision.

"We can offer your justice," T'Challa says. "But not for Barnes."

"Brainwashing's kind of a bitch," Clint adds. "And being blamed for something you were brainwashed into's not really cool." He bites his lip as if he's feeling guilty about something.

"We have Loki," Steve says. "A prisoner."

"What?" demands Ross. "If you—you—you told us he died!" he accuses Thor.

"I thought so too, at the time," Thor responds. Father whimpers. _Stay clam. Stay calm._

"Let's see," Ross says, contemplating them.

"I need assurance that you will leave the moment you have Loki in your custody," T'Challa says. "And not interfere with Wakanda while we're taking down Thanos."

 _You're planning on coming?_ Thor wonders. He hadn't been sure.

"What kind of assurance would you want?" Ross asks.

"Well, actually, we've recorded all of this," Tony announces. "So I'd say that's assurance enough."

" _If_ you agree," T'Challa finishes.

"I'd need to consult with—"

"There's no time!" Tony shouts.

Sharon steps closer, whispering to him. Steve's lips move.

"Fine," acquiesces Ross. He glances behind him, towards the helicopter, and nods.

"Loki's so going to escape in like two seconds," mumbles Rocket. "I would."

The thwacking of the helicopter blades drown out the words. T'Challa motions for them all to head back inside. "Wanda?"

"Ready." She has Loki, looking half-drugged even though he hasn't been given anything but water, wrapped in her magic binds as well as a collar and chains. Bucky stands nearby, eyes skittering about as if he thinks it should be him.

Father stares at Loki, but there's no reaction. _Do you even know him?_

 _My brother made his choices,_ Thor thinks. _You didn't, Bucky._ And yet he still feels as if he's being ripped apart. _My brother._

"Where's Parker?" Tony groans.

"He's insurance," Wanda answers. "So that they won't take me." Sif pulls out her sword, ready to go with Wanda.

Loki's head slumps. He doesn't seem to care what's happening. _Neither do I,_ Thor tries to tell himself, but he does care. He does.

 _Take care of your brother, Thor,_ Mother would remind him when they left the palace as children.

 _I don't know what to do!_ Everything within him screams. That's his little brother, blood be damned. The one he used to tease, the one who always outsmarted him and mocked him for it, the one who laughed at him when he got drunk on too much mead the first time, but cleaned him up anyways.

_When did you stop being that little brother?_

_Or was this always you and I never noticed?_

If this was always who Loki was, it'd be easier. But Thor can't. Even if it was—he's still Loki. Those memories are real, and they pound at the inside of his skull, behind his eyes. _They're real._

_Loki!_

Wanda's already leading him outside, her eyes on the ground. Sif guards her. Them.

Thor strides after them, into the sunlight, but for the first time, Wakanda feels cold.

Ross nods at the sight and mumbles something into his radio. Sharon turns her head.

A shot rings out, and Sif grabs Wanda and throws her to the ground.

"Loki!" Thor screams, charging out as Steve shouts and Tony calls for his suit. Peter Quill and Rocket produce some sort of space gun, but Thor can only see his brother. He tries to swing Mjonir, but it's not there—another shot— _where_ —

Father rushes ahead of him, swinging Mjolnir and throwing it towards the trees, towards the shots, and a shot hits Loki in the arm, and there's blood and _why aren't you creating more illusions, defend yourself, you stupid—_

Another shot, and Father falls, pushing Loki down.

"No!" Thor bellows, and there's commotion in the background. No more shots. Nothing to hear but his own screams, Father's gasps. Nothing to feel but the Allfather's blood leaking into the Midgardian dirt, soiling Thor's hands as he tries to hold his father up.

It's so, so reminiscent if another time, another realm, when Thor made a promise to a liar, to an act. But Loki gapes beside him, still breathing, still alive, eyes glued to their father's face and the blood flecks on his beard.

_You saved Loki._

_This is real._

Chaos surges around him. Thor clings to his father, tears streaking down his face as he tries and tries to comprehend what's just happened, who's dead, who's alive, and _why?_


	16. Chapter 16

"You think we could have contained him? He's a—" Ross shouts as Sharon roundhouse-kicks him in the face.

Wanda's red magic shoots through the air, freezing Ross in place. Tony could throw up. His stomach pinches. Sif grips Thor's shoulder.

 _He's dead._ Tony knows it. And oh god, the memories of his own parents' deaths—the knock on the door—

"Bruce— _Bruce!"_ shouts Jane Foster. Tony whirls around to see Bruce clutching the sides of his skull, gulping air.

"Bruce." Natasha dashes over, grabbing his shoulders. "We need you. Stay calm. Stay Bruce. We need—we need a doctor; we need you—"

"Um, he's dead," Tony puts in. _There's no point; nothing will help!_

Natasha scowls and slashes her hand at him as if to say _shut the hell up_. "For Loki," she pants. "Remember? He helped you. And me."

_Oh._

_But Loki?_

"There could be other shooters," T'Challa says.

"Right." Tony looks to Rhodey. "You ready?"

His friend nods, his war machine suit powering up.

"We'll get them out of the way," Gamora says, nodding to the rest of the Guardians. Groot and Rocket head for Ross and Sharon, Gamora and Quill towards Sif, Wanda, Thor, Odin, and Loki.

T'Challa rushes towards the forest as Tony and Rhodey soar overhead. Guy really takes his country's security seriously. Tony admires that. He peers at the trees, looking for any signs of the sniper. _Snipers_ , maybe. Whoever it is, he or she can't be very far into the forest—and they'd need an extra tall tree—maybe like _that_ one—

Falcon joins them. _Okay, then_.

"Hey, down there!" Rhodey shouts, swooping downwards. Tony jerks around and follows his friend down, in-between the trees. Branches scrape his suit. _Dammit!_

"I caught him," Peter Parker says proudly, a man dressed in camouflage tied to a tree with spider-webbing. T'Challa examines a rifle.

"Good for you, kid," Tony breathes. _Your aunt is going to hire a sniper to take_ me _out._

"Everyone okay?" Peter asks. "I heard the shots and came searching, but he got a few good ones out before I—"

"Odin's dead," says Sam grimly as he lands. "Loki's hurt, too."

"Thor's dad?" Peter's jaw drops.

"Uh, yeah," Tony says. _And they put Wanda and Sif at risk too_. Rage courses through him. _You partnered with these people!_

Once again, like with Ultron, this is all his fault. Tony wilts in his suit.

"Tony," says Rhodey. "Tony. Come on."

"What? Everything's fine."

"Bullshit," Sam remarks. "Not everything's fine. Someone's dead."

"I know that!" Tony shouts.

"Parker and I will get him back," T'Challa says, glaring at the sniper. "Tell them we're coming. And make sure Loki's getting medical treatment."

_You don't believe in allowing suffering, do you?  
_

Tony can hear Thor's howl, see the anguish creasing his face, and Tony remembers his own parents' deaths. He remembers having to watch their deaths, as Zemo watched and he realized he'd almost helped their murderer.

But this sniper, even though he now hangs his head, made a choice.

By the time Tony gets back to the palace, everyone's moved inside. Thor and Sif are nowhere to be seen. Neither is Odin. Vision wraps his arms around Wanda, who cries silently. Bruce is gone. Natasha, Steve, and Sam surround Bucky, whose face is drained of color.

_That bullet was originally meant for him._

"Where's Ross?" Tony asks.

"Sharon and the Guardians took him away," responds Scott. "Man." He shakes his head. "They really hate us, don't they?"

"They hate us until they need us to save them again," Clint observes.

 _Clint_. Tony grabs his arm. "I wanna talk to you."

"Um, okay?" Clint stumbles behind him as Tony veers left into a small corridor.

Tony yanks off his mask. Sweat drips down his face. "What do you feel now? That Loki's been shot?"

"What? Who cares what I feel?"

"I need to know." Tony bites down on the insides of his cheeks. He won't say _please_. But God, he means it.

"I feel awful for Thor," Clint tells him. "His father—"

"But Loki brainwashed you. Mind-controlled you." _That's the better term_. "Do you wish he was the one shot? Is there a tiny part of you that might have been, I don't know, satisfied with that?"

Clint gapes at him. "Tell me you're not saying you knew about this."

"Of course not!" Tony glares. His throat aches. "You really think I would do that?"

"I really didn't think you would do a lot of the things you did." Clint frowns. "I suppose you could say the same about me."

"Yeah." Tony shrugs. "But like—Loki controlled your mind. Don't you hate him for it?"

"Sometimes. Like when I wake up at night and Laura's worried and I can't tell her that I've been dreaming about what might have happened. I know I killed people who were friends, Tony. Do you know how that feels?"

"I know I killed people. But only through weapons. So no."

Clint glances back out. Voices rumble. "I don't know what to tell you, Tony. Do I want to make nice with Loki? Hell no. Did I want this to happen? No."

"I keep thinking of my mom. My dad. And you, too." Tony rubs his face. "I said I didn't care that he was brainwashed, and now…"

"You know what?" Clint asks. "You don't have to. I care because of Thor. Steve's your friend."

"Was," Tony mutters.

"Do you want him to be again?" Clint demands, exasperated.

"Maybe." Tony pushes past Clint, heading back out. Steve sits next to Bucky, Natasha hovering nearby. All of their faces are ashen.

 _Do you feel guilty?_ Tony wonders.

_I remember all of them._

Steve's always been Tony's broccoli friend. The one that sometimes doesn't always taste pleasant and feels like crunchy bones, but the one who's working in his best interest. Until he lied to Tony, covered it up.

_Why didn't you tell me?_

Considering his reaction, Tony can't blame Steve, but it was still shitty. And dead people can't be resurrected.

But Steve's alive.

* * *

"Bruce!" Natasha leaps up. Bucky follows her gaze to see him striding out, shaking his head.

"Loki will be fine. Wakandan doctors are taking care of him; I mostly was just security." Bruce offers a weak smile.

 _Right_. Judging from what Bucky's heard of the Hulk's Loki-smashing in New York, the doctors must have felt safer working with Bruce nearby. And maybe that'd be good for Bruce, too.

"You should go talk to Sharon," Bucky tells Steve, who nods.

They intended to kill him, Bucky thinks again. _What makes them the good guys, in that case?_

"Natasha, can I talk to you?" Clint asks, brushing past Tony. Nat nods.

"So," Bruce begins as Sam smirks. "You and Natasha are… together?"

Bucky nods.

"She's a pretty great person," Bruce comments, sitting down next to Bucky. "She claims she only dates guys who are good people, too."

"I think she needs to rethink that," Bucky admits.

Bruce laughs. "You're good for her."

"What have I ever done that would make you think that?" Bucky asks, relieved Bruce is at least drawing his mind away from the cesspool of misery and shame and fear it's been festering in.

"I don't think you'd ever hurt her."

"I have before," Bucky tells him. "When I didn't recognize her."

"You tried to strangle her," Sam confirms.

"Thanks," Bucky snaps. _Not what I needed to hear._

"Welcome. Always here to remind you." Sam glances back at Scott, who's entertaining Clint's children by turning into a tiny man. "And now I'm gonna go save Scott from getting stomped on."

"So we're both not who we want to be when we're not quite ourselves," Bruce observes.

"No," Bucky agrees. "Loki said he could fix my mind. That clearly didn't work out."

"Yeah. I wish someone could fix me, you know? I'd give up all these powers—all this strength—just to know I'd never hurt a soul again. It's not the same as Steve or Tony or Thor. They're in control."

"I know." Bucky blows out his breath.

"Tony told me—the first time we were all together, when we were trying to stop Loki and he and Steve were at each others' throats—"

 _Apparently not much has changed_ , Bucky thinks.

"—that the Hulk was maybe always a part of me. Sometimes I think that's a good thing. Sometimes it terrifies me."

"That's exactly _what_ terrifies me," Bucky admits. "The idea that the Winter Soldier is a part of me, and I can't exorcise him. A murderer. An assassin. At least for you, it's unintentional. And you've done good as the Hulk, as well as—you know. I haven't done a single thing that's good."

Bruce frowns and takes off his glasses. "Didn't you steal the Gauntlet as the Winter Soldier?"

"Apparently I also then tried to kill Natasha. Again."

"They'll figure you out," Bruce assures him. "Unlike me, I think you're meant to be fixed."

"And you?" Bucky asks.

"I don't know that I'm meant to be fixed. Science tells me it's not really possible. You, on the other hand—it's possible. They just have to figure out how. And if anyone on earth can, T'Challa can. Plus Thor might lend you that staff or whatever."

_But it won't make the things I've done go away._

_Find peace with that._

It seems impossible, a tempest surging up to grab him and drag him down to the depths. He watches Natasha chat with Clint. She glances over her shoulder, offers him a smile, a ray of light.

"Maybe you could focus instead on trying to control the Hulk," Bucky suggests. "Instead of making it go away."

"It'd be dangerous."

"What if there are people willing to take up that challenge? Because you know it's possible. You had some control in New York. You saved Iron Man, right?"

Bruce ducks his head. "I'll think about it."

* * *

_Father._

_Father._

The word circulates through Thor's head, a cry that wants to escape from his lips, but he won't let it, because for the first time ever, his father _cannot_ answer.

Asgardians grow stiff, to, when they're dead. And they'll need to get him to Asgard, for the funeral. Heimdall must know. How many others? Fandral? Volstagg? Hogun?

Thor's head buzzes with thoughts, and none of them land. He remembers when Mother died, when he thought Loki died. _Why are the Norns so cruel?_

"Thor," Sif whispers.

He doesn't move. _You died. For Loki. The son you told would never see Mother again._

_Why?_

_If you were in your right mind, would you still have done it_? Thor wonders, staring at the limp body of the man who taught him that his physical strength was what mattered. Sometimes.

He also taught him humility, and sacrifice.

_You were willing to die to save Jane and Darcy and that town._

Again, because of Loki.

But Loki's face… his mouth open, the terror beading in his eyes—he didn't want this. Thor hopes.

"Thor," Sif tries again.

"May I come in?" asks T'Challa from the doorway. Thor nods.

"Your brother's going to make it."

Thor nods again.

"You can go see him, if you want."

Thor sucks in his breath. "I don't want to leave him." His words come out rough, cracked.

"Thor," Sif says. "What good is it to sit here?"

_What good is it to leave?_

"You've got a brother who is still alive," T'Challa says. " _Because_ of your father."

Thor remembers Mother's death, and how Father's grief blinded him. He wants to be a great king, and a great man.

"You're angry with your brother," T'Challa says. "I don't blame you."

Thor exhales. "Not for this." For everything else, but not for this. Although if Loki hadn't impersonated Father in the first place…

_You can't undo the past._

Why is what Loki's done any worse than what Thor's done? Is it only worse because it was done to him, to his loved ones, instead of to strangers?

And yet it still festers, _feels_ worse.

Thor rises, leaving Mjolnir on the floor. "I'll see him."

"I'll stay here, if you want," Sif tells him, tears still tracking down her face.

 _You care so much_. Thor nods.

"Losing your father is the worst feeling in the world," T'Challa tells him as they exit the room. Shadows fall from the pillars in the hallways.

"I don't know what I have left," Thor says. "Mother's gone. Loki—I can't—" Does he still want his brother? Does he not? Yes, and no, and everything turns over and turns over in his mind, clobbering him.

"I clung to revenge. The first thing I could find. I almost killed the wrong man, and when I had the right man, I couldn't kill him." T'Challa doesn't look at him. "I didn't want it to consume me. I didn't want to become like Tony, or like Baron Zemo. I wanted to become like my father instead." He pauses outside a door.

 _Like my father_ …

"It's your choice. I can't fault you, whatever you do," T'Challa says, and the sincerity in his voice—it's like a mirror, and it's reflecting parts of Thor that he doesn't like, the vengeful, quick-to-violence parts still lurking.

And Father was like that too. _We're somewhat alike_ , Thor reminds himself. Except Father died for Loki, in the end. Did he even remember what Loki did to him? Would it have mattered?

Thor pushes the door open. His brother lies on a bed, guarded by several Wakandans. Loki's eyes are closed, and in the dim light, he almost looks ghostly. Like he's dead too.

"I will leave you alone," T'Challa says. "But I will be right outside."

Loki's eyes open slowly, harden as they focus on Thor. A shield, really.

_How long have you been doing that for?_

"How's your arm?" Thor asks.

"Are you here to kill me?" Loki retorts.

"No." Thor scowls. _He's trying to bait you_. "Father's dead."

"I was there."

"Loki—"

"Why did you run out?" he demands. "Why didn't you let them—I believe you said you would kill me if I betrayed you, right? I betrayed you. _And_ Odin."

"I don't want to." Thor swallows. "You're all I have left."

Loki manages a laugh, a pitiful sound. "I feel sorry for you."

"Loki, I know about Thanos. We—"

"I put Odin on this earth. He lost his mind on his own, admittedly, but—"

"He jumped in front of a—"

"It's my fault just like everything else." Loki rolls his eyes, but his voice trembles.

Rage erupts. "Yes, it is, and what are you going to do about it?" Thor demands.

Loki stares at him, jaw open. He closes his eyes and turns away from Thor. "I killed Mother, too." It's a whisper, and it sends terror snaking down Thor's spine, winding around his ribs and pulling tight.

"What?" he manages to ask.

"When that creature—Kurse—broke out of the cell. I told him to take the stairs to the left. Loki watches him carefully. "I wanted you, and Odin, to suffer."

_Not her._

_Does it matter?_

Thor's stomach churns. He could vomit. The room spins around him, the light and the dark mixing.

"I killed both your parents; aren't you—"

" _Your_ parents," Thor grinds out.

"You really think they would claim me after—"

Tears stream down Thor's face as he looks at the face of the brother he used to punch, who wrestled with hi, smirked at him when Loki always did better in lessons, told him not to worry, helped him strategize? _Where did you go? Why are you so lost?_ "They would. And you know it. Father did."

"They can't!" Now Loki's face twists. The corners of his mouth dig in as he tries to drag back a sob.

"He just died for you!" Thor shouts. The Wakandan guards glance at each other. "For _you_ , Loki, because he thinks you're worthwhile! Because you're his son, no matter what race you belong to, no matter what you've done, he still loved you!"

"Why couldn't he have shown it to me when he was alive?" Loki screams back, haggard. Hair droops in front of his eyes as he shakes his head.

"I don't know," Thor croaks out. "But he did in the end. He _was_ alive, and now he's not, because you're more important to him.

"That's was a fool's thing to do." But Loki covers his eyes with the hand attached to his uninjured arm. His shoulders shudder.

"Loki, you're all I have left," Thor says. Everything within him wants to beat Loki, wants to hug him and never let him go. "I—" He can't eke out the plea. But it's there, lingering in the air.

" _Why?"_

"You're my brother," Thor says. "It doesn't matter. I—all of it's less important. You're my brother, and Norns dammit, Loki, I _love_ you. I can't—" He can't keep speaking, because tears strangle his voice. He leans over. _What will it take? Will you ever see?_ He wants to tear that blindfold _off_ , burn it away, but Loki stubbornly clings to it and there's _nothing_ Thor can do to fix this.

"Thor." An arm closes around his neck, and Loki's head presses into his cheek. Everything snaps: Thor grabs Loki and holds him tight.

Until Loki cries out.

"Oops." Thor releases him. "Your arm all right?"

"You're a buffoon," Loki mutters. But he's looking at Thor like he's so, so afraid, but there's still hope.


	17. Chapter 17

"What are we going to do about Ross?" asks Sharon, drawing back a chair and collapsing into it. Steve gives her a small smile. He wishes he had the energy to offer a solution, but he doesn't. His mind's all dregs and muck.

"Great question," comments Peter Quill. "We could send him to Xandar. Or bring him to Thanos."

"Remove his spine. He is vexing," declares Drax.

"I am not sure," T'Challa admits, taking a seat next to Gamora. "But _those_ are not options."

"Killjoy," accuses Rocket. Gamora rolls her eyes. They have a small group—only Steve, Sam, the Guardians, and T'Challa. Plus Sharon.

_Work, brain._

"Have you been in communication with anyone at all?" Steve questions Sharon.

"Not yet." Sharon shakes her head and sips a glass of water. "I could just tell them we're currently staying as guests of Wakanda. However—"

"Attempting to murder someone, even a genocidal prisoner, on Wakandan territory is not your place," T'Challa tells her. "They need to know that Wakanda will not stand for that."

"I had no idea they were even considering that," Sharon insists.

"I believe you," T'Challa affirms, raising a cup of coffee to his lips. "But Wakanda cannot stand for repeated intrusions by your government. However—"

"The rest of the world isn't going to buy that," Steve finishes. "Not when they hear the name 'Loki' and remember all the people they lost."

"And there is the _little_ matter of Thanos," puts in Quill as Rocket downs his second cup of coffee. Steve winces. "Like, the matter of, _we better act soon."_

" _That_ we can't discuss now. Not until everyone else is assembled," T'Challa snaps.

"Can't you just assassinate Ross and say he got lost in the wilderness?" Rocket suggests.

"No!" Steve, Sam, and Sharon all shout.

"Humans," grumbles the raccoon, filling in his third cup of coffee. Gamora's eyebrows rise.

"Weak," agrees Drax.

" _I'm_ human," protests Quill. His friends exchange a glance and and shrug. Rocket snickers.

"Look, there are people I can contact, but they're not really a part of the government in the US anymore. They're ex-SHIELD agents. And some superhumans, in a way," says Sharon.

"Who?" Steve asks, watching her. There's so much he doesn't know about her.

_Will you ever have time to learn?_

"If I told you, you'd never believe me," Sharon answers, and she doesn't give any more details. Steve nods and climbs to his feet to brew himself a cup of coffee. It won't affect him, but he's exhausted. Not physically. In every other sense.

In the world Steve grew up in, heroes fought, heroes won, heroes sometimes sacrificed their lives for noble causes. Heroes did not wilt from exhaustion.

He's superhuman in every way, and yet when Steve thinks of trying to wrangle a solution to the diplomatic mess the Avengers have found themselves in, at Wakanda's expense, when he thinks of the threat looming with Thanos, whose love for death means murder for everyone and everything, including the people Steve loves, he doesn't want to fight. He knows he has to, and the notion of _not_ fighting—it's impossible. He won't consider it.

But he's tired of fighting. And he never though he would feel this way. _What's wrong with me?_

"We can try to strike a deal with Ross," Sharon says. "My job's probably gone by now."

"Sorry." Steve winces.

"Don't be. Aunt Peggy would be proud." She offers him a small smile.

"That man would strike a deal?" T'Challa raises his eyebrows. Steve takes a sip of coffee. It's black, bitter, strong. It burns.

"Maybe. If we go to eradicate the threat of Thanos with Vision in tow. There's no need to mention Barnes. Say Thor's going back to Asgard to bury his father—"

"Do they do burials in Asgard?" wonders Quill.

"—tell them that Loki's going too, as a prisoner. That he won't escape from."

"That didn't work out last time," Steve comments, rubbing his chin. His brain's sluggish.

"Well, Thor doesn't answer to any government agency, as much as they'd like to pretend he does. I know we humans like to pretend we have some measure of control on these extraterrestrial beings, enhanced people, the like, but we don't. And I think the government needs to accept that. Of course they won't spin it to the public that way, but it's a start." Sharon blows out her breath. "Tell them unauthorized executions are not allowed in Wakanda. They can't necessarily fault you for arresting Ross, and that sniper."

"If I agree to send them back, to pardon them," T'Challa muses. "They might have to agree to stay out of Wakanda and Wakanda's business as a term." He meets Steve's eyes. "And that includes the Avengers."

"You know," Sam adds. "If you go to the press… their option of 'not agreeing' to these terms might be somewhat limited."

"Who do we know who has the ability to influence the press?" asks T'Challa. "Stark?"

"More like his ex," Sam says. "Pepper."

* * *

"Hey," says a voice from the doorway. Loki cranes his neck to see Gamora standing there. Still clad in black, red tips to her dark hair. She hasn't changed much, but her eyes—they're less burdened.

Loki cringes as he remembers one of the first days he was with Thanos, when he asked Gamora for help.

 _Help yourself,_ she told him.

It was probably the best advice she could have given him. If he hadn't capitulated, convinced Thanos—he might still be trapped there, screaming and screaming. Or dead, an offering to Thanos's mistress.

_But where did the pretenses stop, and the emulation begin?_

_Mother…_

"How're you feeling?" Gamora asks as she steps in. Thor wakes from where he's been sleeping in the chair.

 _You fool,_ Loki thinks. But he's grateful. "It's healing," he tells her. "It'll be fine."

"Sorry about your father," Gamora mutters. Thor nods.

 _He's no love lost to me,_ Loki remembers telling her once, snarling really.

The trick's on Loki, now, and it's too late. _Father will never see…_

"I'm glad to see you made it out, too," he says. "I could tell you wanted out."

Gamora's eyes widen. "I hid it well."

"True," he admits. "Nebula?"

"My sister is… she fought with Ronan. To use the Power Stone to destroy Xandar. We fought and she fled." Gamora bites her lip.

"She tried to kill you, didn't she?" Loki asks. His stomach twists. _Which one am I?_

_Why would it even matter?_

"She's still my sister. If only because of the horrors Thanos put us through." Gamora shakes her head. "I don't think she was working with Ronan out of bloodlust, at least not for Xandar. She wanted to take Thanos down."

"Could she be an ally?" Thor asks.

"I've no idea where to reach her." Gamora frowns.

"The Collector might," Loki suggests.

"The Orb blew up his collection."

"I'm not sure that matters. He still has the Aether."

"From what I've heard," Thor begins carefully. "We are to return to Asgard for my father's—for his—funeral. If you and the Guardians were to visit this Collector while we—"

"We'll see." Gamora sighs.

"I'm surprised they're even considering letting me go," Loki comments.

"Don't push your luck," Thor grouses.

Loki scowls.

"I know what you mean," Gamora says. "It's like—we get to help, now. Because it's the right thing. I felt like that on Xandar. Even after everything—and—but without us, what chance would they have? We know Thanos. Me better than you, but you know him still."

_We'll never fully erase anything._

_We can't erase a single thing. But we can maybe mold something different._ Loki hopes. He watches his brother and his throat constricts. He doesn't want to let him down, but he will. He always does.

"You know, I heard you had been captured, and then killed. It was convincing even enough for Thanos to believe it," Gamora tells him. "You're invaluable. Even if the rest of the Avengers don't want to work with you."

He can't imagine that they would. Except perhaps Natasha, and Bruce. Is Bucky an Avenger? "You know," Loki says, glancing to Thor. "On Svartalfheim. I really, truly thought I was dying."

"But you didn't," Thor states.

"Something—I think with my—true nature—" Loki grimaces. He still hates looking at his pale skin and thinking about the icy blue stirring under there. "—saved me. And then I took advantage." He studies the threads on the blanket. The corners fray, unraveling the artwork slowly over time.

Thor nods. _Do you believe me?_ Loki's not sure. He can't blame Thor. He wishes he could.

"We need to discuss with the rest of the Avengers," Thor tells Gamora. "But if you can find this sister of yours—and she will agree to help you—we could use a third person who knows this place."

"Natasha and Bucky know it too," Loki interrupts. "Albeit less well."

"We could set a number of days. A week, maybe, for you to try and find her, while we're on Asgard. And we can take the Avengers with us, as many as we can," Thor tells Loki.

"You're going to let me come back to Asgard?" Loki's nose wrinkles. "You can't."

Thor's jaw drops. "Yes, I can."

"Thor. I'm sorry to break the news to you, but you are _king_ now. I'm a traitor. You can't—"

"I don't give a damn!" Thor shouts. His nostrils flare. "You're my brother. You're the only family, and Loki—"

"You're an idiot if you think I'm worth—"

"You're worth—"

"Couldn't you just disguise yourself?" asks Gamora.

"Oh." Loki's jaw snaps shut. "I suppose."

"That would do," Thor agrees.

* * *

Everyone save for Loki gathers in the conference room. With no seats available, Natasha drops to the floor. Bucky and Sam settle next to her. Wanda perches on Vision's lap and Natasha raises her eyebrows at her.

Wanda ignores her.

"Get out, kid," Tony orders Peter Parker.

"I took down a sniper; can't—can't I stay?"

"Yes," says Steve. Tony glares. If looks could kill, Steve would be obliterated.

"I'll start," Thor says, glancing at Gamora. He explains their idea.

"So instead of waiting for Thanos to come to us, we're going to him?" Tony asks.

"That's what it seems like," T'Challa confirms.

Natasha glances at Bucky, whose face drains. His fingers feel cold against her hand.

"If we have a distraction, I think we have a chance," Gamora says, glancing at the rest of the Guardians and at T'Challa.

"What kind of distraction?" asks Vision.

"You'll do," Peter Quill says, nodding at Bruce. Natasha's heart freezes. Her fingertips ache.

"No," Bruce says flatly.

"Thanos is very interested… and disturbed by your capabilities," Gamora informs him.

" _Which I can't control,"_ Bruce shoots back. His face grows red. Wanda takes a step back. "I could just as easily—if he manipulates me the wrong way, I could turn on you and you and all of you. That's my worst nightmare; don't you understand? I brought down a helicarrier—"

"You stopped Loki," Thor offers. "There's a chance you can—"

"I'm not willing to take that risk," Bruce snaps, pacing, his hands interlocked behind his head.

"You know what she showed me?" Tony interrupts, nodding to Wanda. "She showed me all of you, dead."

Wanda shrugs.

 _What_? Natasha frowns.

"That's what led me to—all of this. It's to keep you all safe. And, you know, other people too. But I understand maybe better than you would think, Bruce," Tony says, clutching the back of Rhodey's chair. "You want to keep people safe. But in trying to do that, I kind of went—a lot of bad things happened. If anything, I put people more in danger than—well. I ruined my relationship with Pepper."

"Do you have a point where you're going with this?" Bruce asks.

"Yeah. I do. You can try and protect people, but it's not a guarantee. We need you, Bruce. We need the Hulk, too."

"Do you think the Mind Stone could help?" asks Vision.

"Not while it's in your head fuelling your brain," Peter Quill responds.

"There's _nothing_ that can help." Bruce shakes his head. "I want to help you guys, I want to be an Avenger, but I can't—"

"What if we tried to work on it?" T'Challa interrupts.

"How would you do that without leveling Wakanda?" Bruce retorts.

"We have her," T'Challa says, nodding to Wanda. "We have Asgardians. We have controlled spaces."

"I can call Eric Selvig," puts in Jane. "He might have some ideas as well."

"He doesn't work with biology," Bruce snaps.

"Look," Scott says. "I get it. You think you're a failure and a monster and whatnot, but you're not _really_. If you don't try, and we all go anyways, and we all get killed—okay, maybe you won't miss me, but aren't there some people in this room whom you're gonna miss, big-time?"

Bruce's eyes meet Natasha's. Her throat throbs.

She wants to tell him he can do this, but she doesn't know that he can. "Please try, Bruce," she requests. That's all she can ask for.

It's all she has the right to ask.

He nods. "I'll try." Bruce sinks into the chair he vacated. " _Dammit_."

"We're going to try and find some more people—children of Thanos—who might be willing to help," Gamora continues. "He has enemies. Lots of them. Thor will bury his father—"

"And recruit the Warriors Three," Thor adds.

"Why are you even helping us?" Clint asks. "You." He nods at Gamora. "You don't exactly—"

"Because Thanos tortured me. Because I know what he's capable of, and I can't let that—I can't let it happen. When I left Thanos I had no plans except getting the hell away and staying away. And then I ran into these guys."

"Excuse me," Rocket corrects. "We ran into you. Or Groot did."

"I almost put a knife in you," Drax remembers. Natasha shakes her head. And she thought the Avengers had a messed up crew.

"Yeah, but they showed me what was possible, what Thanos wouldn't let—Thanos loves death. He personifies it, is madly, madly in love with death. I have life now, with my friends. I want to preserve that, for everybody."

_There's more to life than just surviving._

The Avengers gave Natasha a home, a family really, something that SHIELD hadn't done. SHIELD was switching sides. The Avengers were her resurrection.

 _We could be friends,_ Natasha thinks as she watches Gamora.

Scott claps. T'Challa watches Gamora with glowing eyes.

The rest of the meeting dissolves into planning. Bucky bites his lip and doesn't speak, and Natasha's heart sinks.

"Want to talk?" she asks, grasping his elbow. He lets her pull him out of the room, down the hall and into a stairwell. "You're having the same thoughts as Bruce, aren't you?"

He nods and drops down on one of the stairs. The light, from a window several floors above, falls gray onto his face. "I don't know what to do."

"If you're so worried, Thor or Loki can use Gungnir—" _Is Loki coming?_ Natasha wonders. _He has to be. Although Thor didn't mention it._ "You don't have to worry."

"Yeah, but when I took the Gauntlet that time, I wasn't me. I was the Winter Soldier. So if I can accomplish more—"

"But what do you want?" Natasha interrupts, peering at him. He looks like he's trying to make himself smaller, but he can't. They all take up space.

Anguish twisting his features, he lifts his head to face her. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt Steve, or Sam, or Tony. I don't want to hurt _you_."

 _You really care._ Natasha has to remind herself of it constantly. Maybe it's like a lifesaving medicine for her, and she'll never be whole, never be able to believe, without doubting, that someone loves her.

"But if I have my mind, and I'm useless in the fight, then everyone gets hurt anyways." Bucky hits his knee.

"Not necessarily," Natasha says. "We've got a pretty good roster even without you."

Bucky's lips curve into a smile. "True. But I want to do my part. I want to help. If Tony will let me."

"He doesn't have a whole lot of choice," Natasha admits. "So yes, he'll let you."

"I can't—I can't hurt another innocent person, Natasha. I don't want to be a monster, but I also don't want to be useless."

"You wouldn't be," Natasha says, because she needs to believe it too. "You were a pretty great soldier before you feel from that train, according to Steve."

Bucky narrows his eyes. "How any stories has he told you?"

"A fair amount." Natasha tosses her hair.

Bucky leans forward and covers her lips with his. Natasha pulls back and clutches the sides of his face. "You'll never be useless."

The door to the stairwell bangs open, and Clint stops. "Oh."

"Hey, Clint," Natasha says casually. Lord knows she walked in on him and Laura making out more than once.

"Hey," Clint says, folding his arms. "Um, you, Bucky. I wanted to—apologize."

"What for?" Bucky asks, taken aback.

"Assuming you killed Nat," Clint says.

Natasha scowls, but she's not surprised. Life hasn't taught either of them to expect the best.

"I wouldn't have expected anything else," Bucky says.

Because he could have done it, if Loki or the Kree or anyone really manipulated his mind the right way. What a terrible burden, Natasha thinks, and it's one she bears too.

"Well, I'm still sorry," Cling states.

"Thanks," Bucky mutters, as if uncomfortable with the idea that Clint could think him a good person.

_But you are one. Or at least, like all of us, you're capable of it._


	18. Chapter 18

"Still can't believe we're going to have to work with Loki," complains Clint as he watches the Guardians depart in the Milano.

"Me either," Steve admits. It's a strange set of circumstances, to be sure. Although... his mind keeps comparing Bucky and Loki, and he's not sure he likes it. "I guess we all just want to live."

"I can't forget what he did to me, though," Clint mutters.

"You don't hate him, though," Sam points out as he pops open a bottle of soda.

"Not enough to create a problem," Clint tells him. He turns on his heel. "I'm gonna go spend some time with my family before we leave tomorrow. It may be the last time I see them."

"Clint!" Steve calls. "You don't have to come if—"

"I'd never be able to look myself in the eye again if I didn't!" Clint replies without turning around. The door bangs as he stalks inside.

"You 'don't have to come?'" Sam mocks. "Aren't you usually all about doing the right thing no matter the cost, Mr. Rogers?"

"I try," Steve says as he grabs Sam's soda and takes a swig. "But I—he's got kids. We need him, but I don't want him to feel bitter or—"

Sam laughs.

"What?" Steve demands.

"Maybe you've learned something from our civil war after all," Sam tells him. "Don't worry about it."

They pass Scott, peering into his smartphone and laughing with his daughter. Steve's heart constricts.

"Hey," Sharon says to him. "You all right?"

Sam waves and slips off.

"Just preparing for the biggest battle of our lives." _To save your life. And everyone in the entire universe's_.

"You'll win," Sharon says, stepping closer. Her hand closes over Steve's arm. "You never lose."

"I grew up losing," Steve admits. "But losing's not an option here."

"I'm supposed to pay a visit to Pepper Potts when I get back. Stark's request," Sharon informs him.

"He can't call her himself?"

"He's kind of busy trying to find a certain teenager, who may have stowed away on the Milano to avoid an inevitable confrontation." Sharon shrugs.

"You helped him," Steve accuses.

"I figured he had the right to try and defend… he called his aunt. I made sure of that." Sharon brushes her hair back from her shoulders.

There are so many questions Steve wants to ask her, so much he wants to learn, and he only has a few hours and he doesn't have enough energy to embed his feelings into words.

"Don't let him get hurt?"

Steve nods. It's the right thing to do, for him to go and face this war. For all of them. But never really thought, though, of people who had to stay behind. Collateral damage, a term, numbers, people when he was trying to minimize it. Back when the world was at war, he remembers his neighbor screaming, hysterical, telegram in hand, death printed in black ink.

_What happened to her?_

Who will be collateral damage this time? Laura Barton? Peter's Aunt May? Cassie Lang? And with the courage and yet sadness he sees on Sharon's face… _you too, maybe._

If he dies, she might mourn. And it's a privilege to be this close to someone. He remembers Peggy, all that she went on to do after the war.

And she missed him, or so they say. Always.

Steve's hand closes around the back of Sharon's skull. His lips meet hers and he tries to lose himself in the moment, stop agonizing over what's coming, stop trying to focus on everything else and just focus on her.

He can't.

Not yet.

For the first time, as Steve pulls back, he feels like something in him might be broken.

"You better call me when you get back," Sharon tells him.

_You'll take care of the Bartons, won't you, no matter what happens?_

He doesn't have to ask. He trusts her like he trusted Peggy, like he trusts Sam. "I will."

"Good luck." Sharon squeezes his hand and saunters off. Steve smiles as eh watches her go. He should call after her, but he doesn't.

"Nicely done," comments a voice from around the corner. Steve laughs as Bucky emerges. "But isn't she related to your old girlfriend? Her granddaughter?"

" _Niece_ ," Steve corrects, but Bucky's actually grinning and joking, and it's so rarely been like this between them since… everything. Since before he became Captain America. Before the war.

"You okay?" Bucky asks, the same way he used to ask all the time when they were kids and Steve was sporting a black eye or a bloodied lip.

Steve smiles as he fiddles with the lock on the door to his room. "I don't know." It's a far cry from the _I'm fine_ answers he used to give. Bucky's smile falters.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know." Steve drops onto his bed. "I'm tired."

"That's not unexpected."

Steve peers up at Bucky. "Yeah, but I'm not—the only other time I remember being this— _tired_ , this _ready to be_ _done_ was after you fell from that train. I don't know why I feel this way. Nat's alive. Everyone's alive, except Odin, and I didn't know him."

"Well, we _are_ about to face the lover of death himself," Bucky points out.

Steve snorts. "True." He scrabbles to put his emotions into words. "I'm just—I want to—I've always been this _symbol of inspiration_ , and I don't know. I don't know if I deserve it anymore."

"Why not?"

"Not because of you," Steve interjects. "But I miss—everything that passed between Tony and myself, I don't regret it, but it doesn't—I miss having him as my friend."

Bucky nods. "I understand." Guilt pinches his features.

 _Dammit_. Steve can't express himself. "So you and Natasha really knew each other?"

"Yeah. We did several missions together, until they decided she brought out my human side and vice versa and... they put an end to that." Bucky's eyes travel back in time.

Steve has a pretty good idea what "put an end to that" really means, and his heart aches. "I'm happy for you. You deserve—"

"No, I don't," Bucky interrupts, shaking his head. "I don't deserve anything, really."

"You do."

"Well, she seems to like me anyways." He shrugs. "And when I'm with her, or with you too, since you're my best friend, I almost can believe I'm not a monster."

Nothing will ever fully erase the doubts, the guilt, and Steve wants to scream. _Why?_ _Why did this have to happen?_

"Thank you," Bucky says quietly. "For always being my friend. I mean, I know you're all about loyalty, but if you hadn't tried..."

He would have died the Winter Soldier, their creation. Steve swallows. "I'll always be your friend."

Bucky nods, his eyes misting. "T'Challa said they're creating a new metal arm for the mission."

Steve straightens, taking the cue. "How do you feel about that?"

"Terrified." Bucky meets his eyes, and Steve can tell he doesn't like admitting that. "All of it—getting my mind back, maybe, but there's the fact that it won't erase the memories, or make anyone alive again. But at least I won't hurt anyone else. I hope."

"Bucky," Steve says. "You won't. You protected me even when I didn't necessarily want you to. You've got a caring heart, and all those years of—whatever they did to you—they didn't stomp that out. You're still here."

"Just changed, a little." Bucky gestures towards his stump with a grimace.

"Whereas I haven't changed at all?" Steve asks.

"Not much. A little, yeah, you have. But you're still Steve Rogers."

"Just a hero now." Steve laughs at the absurdity of it.

Bucky scrunches his brow. "You've always been a hero. At least to me. Don't you realize I wish I had half your courage?"

Steve's throat sticks when he tries to speak. He can't and opts to shrug instead. _Even if your mind's still a risk, you're back._

* * *

"Are you sure leaving your kingdom is a wise choice?" Thor inquires.

"I'm not planning on dying. Or on being gone very long," T'Challa responds as Bruce, Jane, Wanda and Vision climb up the stairs into a wide-open room with windows that reveal the sprawling world of Wakanda below.

"How did it go?" Sif asks as she examines a strawberry.

"They're good," Thor tells her. "Try one."

"They're poison," deadpans Loki, handcuffed to the soft blue couch he's sitting on. Loki's smirk vanishes as Bruce comes closer.

"It went fairly well," Wanda answers. "My magic—"

"You have magic?" scoffs Loki.

"Brother, I will—" Thor starts.

"From the mind gem," Wanda confirms, lifting her hands to reveal a red glow. Loki's eyes widen in intrigue.

 _Oh no._ Thor glances at Sif, who still studies the strawberry as if fascinated. She bites into it and a smile widens.

"You don't know how it works, though?" Loki asks.

"Not entirely. I can control it," Wanda adds hastily. "Give people visions, teleport things—"

"Oh no," Bruce groans.

"Well, on the bright side," T'Challa puts in. "Their magic talk will drive Tony Stark insane."

Bruce nods as if T'Challa's made a valid point.

"Things went okay," Bruce admits. "Wanda does seem to be able to control the Hulk, at least a little bit. She can put commands in my mind. The problem is, the Hulk decides whether or not he wants to obey them."

"About two-thirds of the time he does," Jane puts in.

"These are _amazing_ ," Sif gasps, reaching for three more berries.

"I think it's hopeful," declares Vision. "No, we don't have time to perfect it—"

"And not all of us are perfect robot creations," Bruce adds.

"Perfect I am not." Vision glances at the floor. "But it will help." His gaze suddenly widens.

"Can you appear to Tony right now? He's outside with Rhodey and Nat," Wanda's saying.

"Brother, that is a _terrible_ —" Thor starts, but Loki starts talking as if to Stark.

"Don't worry; I'm not actually here. The Scarlet Witch and I are practicing magic, which is too much for a simple mortal like yourself to underst—"

T'Challa laughs. Sif pauses with a strawberry halfway to her mouth.

"Scarlet Witch," muses Wanda as she glances to Vision. "I like it."

"He's very irritated," Loki reports.

"You're pushing your luck," Thor hisses.

"For real?" Rhodey drawls as he comes into the room, followed by a scowling Tony.

"Tony—" Thor begins, but Tony shakes his head. "Got other things to concentrate on."

Thor's heart seizes. He and Sif exchange a glance as they rise to collect Odin's body. And head home.

What is Asgard without Odin? Even when Odin wasn't there, Thor thought he was. He can't picture it. There's _no one_ he can turn to for advice.

 _Not no one_. Sif's following him, her eyes soft.

 _Father loved you like a daughter,_ Thor thinks, but he can't bring himself to say it. Not right now. Loki needs him. The Avengers need him, and who knows if either of them will survive.

 _I want to be like you, Father_. Put his work as his foremost priority, swallows his emotions and wait to act. _Think_.

Of course, when he thinks of Loki, Thor can't help but wonder to what extent Odin's prioritizing of his kingdom lost him everything.

 _I can't right now._ He doesn't need a reason beyond that one.

"Thor," calls a voice. _Jane_.

The sweet scientist he still adores approaches. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Thor manages.

"If you need an astrophysicist, tell Heimdall to beam me up." She smiles slightly, tugging at her cardigan. "You're all fully capable of taking this Thanos guy down."

"Thanks for all your help," Thor says. "I appreciate it. I do."

She nods and steps aside. Thor forces himself to turn, walk away.

"Thor?" she calls.

He turns immediately.

"You'll make a great king."

* * *

"I'll call you in ten days; I promise," Scott says into the phone.

"Daddy, why do you have to go?" whines Lila as Clint clutches her to his chest. Natasha blinks.

"Will you take care of Daddy, Aunty Nat?" asks Cooper, tears in his eyes. You'd think after so many times Clint went away, the kids would be used to it.

They aren't.

"Of course," Natasha promises, crouching to the ground. "I'll keep him out of trouble." She winks.

"I don't doubt you will," Laura assures her.

Natasha pulls away from the family, sidling next to Bucky. "No matter what happens, Clint has to get back here. Clint and Scott."

Bucky nods.

Clint is her Steve, the one who pulled her back and made her hope for a better life, hope for a better _her_. Almost losing him to Loki was torturous. If it costs her life, she'll make sure he gets to come home to Laura, Nathaniel, Lila, and Cooper.

She used to look up to Clint, not just because of who he was, but because of whom he had. He had a family. He had a wife who loved him and kids, and every time Natasha drew a picture with Lila or chased Cooper across the farm, it always hit her like a rock in her chest that she could never, ever replicate that.

But bucky's holding her hand, and Steve's nearby, and all of the Avengers—they tell her she's lovable, just as she is. What they did to her in the Red Room—what she did herself in the years that followed—none of that matters so much as she matters to them.

Natasha glances to Loki. She wonders if he'll get that chance.

"Hey," Tony says as he walks over. His eyes still burn, and Natasha realizes that she's looking at the face of someone she could have easily hurt, too, the face of a son whose parents were assassinated. And then his eyes flick to her, and they soften. "Ready for space travel?"

"That can't scare me," Natasha responds.

"Of right, you were gallivanting around space pretty recently." Tony waves his hand. Bucky almost smiles.

"Heimdall, we're ready!" calls Thor.

"We are?" asks Sam.

Light flashes, obscuring her view of Laura and the kids, and then every last muscle in her body feels like it's being squeezed through space and time—her brain dissolving—and they're in a small room with a golden dome covering them, and a dark-skinned man smiles at them.

* * *

Asgard rises around them, golden and buzzing with rumors and tears for their fallen king. Thor leads the way, his jaw set in a firm line.

Loki's disguised himself as a plain man, an ordinary human with reddish-gold hair. Sif keeps in step behind him, her blade surreptitiously aimed at his back.

The Avengers are ushered into spacious rooms in the palace, and Wanda finds a beautiful red gown made of silk and interwoven with gold laid out on her bed. She picks it up and remembers her mother wearing something red and long and beautiful once, maybe when Wanda was three.

"Stunning," comments Vision as he floats through the walls.

"Vision!" she complains.

"My abilities don't appear to change through time and space," Vision comments, studying his own arms with a sense of wonder.

Wanda fights a smile.

"But that dress is lovely," Vision adds.

"I haven't even tried it on yet."

"I'm predicting the future."

Wanda stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"You looked sad, though," he says, watching her with concern.

"I was just thinking about my mother. And my father, and my brother." Wanda sets the dress down. Sunlight spills through the towering windows. "I feel bad for Thor."

"He still has his brother."

"Whom he can't openly acknowledge." Wanda shakes her head. "When my parents died, I still had Pietro. And then when everyone was torn over the Avengers, and we saw Stark's name and we hated him, when we joined Strucker… we were together. And sometimes I still have to remind myself he's gone." She sniffs.

Vision's hand rests on her shoulder. "He would be proud of what you're doing."

Wanda lifts her head. "He would be mad that he couldn't join us."

Vision laughs.

"I felt like I died when he died," Wanda says, remembering when she stumbled towards Ultron, just wanting it to be over, not caring about herself. And then Vision found her. Even though she didn't care to live, he wanted her to. _You helped me feel alive again_. She kisses him, deeply this time. She doesn't care that he's a cyborg. She's an enhanced witch. Neither of them should be here, but they are.

Wanda attends the funeral for Odin down on the docks, where Thor shoots an arrow into a boat that sails towards the edge of the world. He does not cry, but Loki, still disguised, does.

And Wanda steps closer and puts her hand on his shoulder. _Live. Please live._

_There's hope for you._

* * *

"How are you both doing?" Sif asks as she appears in the doorway to Thor's chambers. Loki sits with a cup of mead in his hand. He casts her a skeptical look as if to say _we both know you don't care about me_.

"I always thought he would be around to help me," Thor says as he stares into his own cup. "But he isn't."

"I spoke to the Warriors Three. We're with you, Thor. When we go to take on Thanos."

 _There's no time to rest or grieve during war_. Thor nods. "The Guardians should arrive in three days."

"I was thinking," Sif begins, biting her lip as she glances from Loki to Thor. "That we might have another weapon to use. In addition to the Infinity Gauntlet."

"What one?" Thor asks. He already didn't like placing the Tesseract in it.

"You have the Casket, don't you?" Sif asks Loki.

He blanches. "Why?"

"It could be useful against Thanos."

"If I use it, I turn into a Frost Giant," Loki retorts. "No."

Sif's eyes flash. "So your vanity matters more than the earth's—"

"You don't get to call it vanity," Loki snarls. "Not after hundreds of years of saying how much you _loathe_ the Frost Giants, how much better the universe would be if all those _monsters_ were wiped—"

"It's not going to change the fact that you _are_ a—"

"And that's what makes me so evil to you, is it?"

"Stop!" Thor slams his mug down. "You both must _stop_."

"I don't mean that at all," Sif says, her voice shaking. "I( only meant that you might be able to help us, Loki. How is that monstrous?"

"Don't pretend you haven't hated me for—"

"It had nothing to do with that—I didn't even _know_ —"

"But you felt _justified_ when you found out, didn't you?" Loki's eyes glitter, and his ragged voice tells Thor he gets no pleasure out of this.

"I didn't," Thor says. "I felt—I was ashamed, Loki. I could have—I was wrong. All these years."

"You were my _friend_ , Loki. We didn't get along, no, but I didn't hate you until I saw you trying to manipulate Thor out of the throne," Sif tells him.

"So you had a monster as your friend?' Loki mocks.

"No, Loki, I had _you_ as my friend." Sif glares at him. "I don't know whether I'll ever fully forgive you, but I want you to try and help, for Thor's sake, and for your own, believe it or not. Because you're capable of far more than petty tricks and betrayals. I hope your father's death taught you that." She steps back.

"Sif!" Thor protests.

"I _know_ that's my fault!" Loki shouts. "You don't have to—"

"If you use the Casket, I honestly think we'll have a better chance, but you're reverting to putting your own needs above everyone else's yet again!"

"You don't know what it's like!"

"No, I don't," she admits. "But Loki—"

"I couldn't bear it—I couldn't _stand_ it if—everyone can't see me like that," Loki insists. "I'd rather die."

"Did you ever consider that maybe being Jotun isn't entirely a bad thing?" Sif retorts. "Maybe you can use it for good?"

"Maybe Jotuns are just like humans and like Asgardians," Thor before as he downs his mead. It stings the back of his throat. "They can make their own choices." _Maybe in seeking to avoid what you fear about what you are, you've become the very thing you fear._

"I'll think about it," Loki says shortly, ending the conversation.

Sif nods. "Good night."

The door slams behind her. Thor turns to his brother.

"I can't do it," Loki says to him, eyes wide, terrified. "I _can't_."

"That's okay," Thor insists. He watches as his brother rises and paces, and for the first time since childhood, Thor realizes he's seeing some of his brother's vulnerability.

 _You trust me again._ It's a beautiful thought, and so, so bitter to taste.

"No, it isn't. I _don't_ think the Casket will be all that helpful, but—I don't want to—"

"You don't have to," Thor says, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. "We'll figure out another way." He clasps Loki's head. "I promise you."

Loki's lips curl into as smile. Thor half expects to be deigned a fool. Instead, Loki's head melts and he rests against Thor's shoulder in exhaustion.

"I'll talk to Sif," Thor promises.

"Do you love Sif?"

"What?" Thor blinks.

"You should," Loki tells him, pushing him away.

"What do you—"

Loki grabs one of the books Thor studied, all those months ago, and pages through it, vulnerability gone from all but the glimmer in his eyes and their memories. "Go kiss her, you big oaf. She probably thinks she's offended you."

Thor frowns. "She did. A little."

"Are you willing to overlook it?"

"Are you?"

"Sif's been in love with you since we were children, Thor, and I have put up with too much of her mooning. So has Hogun. And Fandral. And Volstagg. Go, _please_."

Thor isn't sure if this is a test and he's failing it. Loki's eyes narrow. " _Thor_. She's brave and smart and fiercely, fiercely loyal to you. You couldn't have anyone better." His voice softens.

 _You're sincere, aren't you_?

Thor strides out of the room, heart pounding in his chest. Norns, he's nervous.

He finds Sif drinking with Fandral and Hogun. Volstagg hovers over a table covered in the remains of the funeral feast. A celebration of Father's life, supposedly, even if Thor could barely be there.

"Look who's here!" Fandral crows, rising with a chalice in his hand.

Should he ask to talk to her privately? Or just do it here?

"Thor, are you all right?" Fandral asks.

"Is it Loki?" Sif leaps to her feet.

"No, Sif," Thor says, a laugh escaping. "It's you."

"What?" Her jaw drops, and Thor grabs her shoulders and kisses her, and she kisses him back. She _does_ love him. Loki was right, and _this_ —this right here, with Sif—is right.

"Finally!" cheers Volstagg. Fandral laughs and laughs.

When Thor pulls away, even Hogun's smiling. Sif's eyes are wide in disbelief. "What was that for?"

Thor shrugs. "I think it was long overdue."


	19. Chapter 19

"Listen, I only have one thing to say to you." Tony says to Loki as he passes his disguise in the corridors. "You better not fuck us over here."

Loki swallows. A million possible insults cross his mind, but he doesn't have the energy to utter a single one. "I won't."

"Good." Tony steps away. "Go fix that—his mind." He waves his hand as if he doesn't care.

"You or Thanos," Loki calls after him. "Tough choice, but one's clearly better than the other."

Tony blinks as if surprised. Despite the fact that he's human and arrogant as hell, maybe they could have been friends. But Thanos ruined it all. Well, not Thanos entirely.

_Also me. I ruined it._

If only there were a way to fix _his_ mind. Make him into a good person.

Does he even want to be?

 _There is a way._ The thought comes flavored in his mother's voice.

It's like magic. _Magic doesn't erase reality. It alters our perception of it._

 _I know you're frustrated,_ Mother would say as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. _But it takes time. I'm still learning, and you're far ahead of where I was when I was as young as you_.

 _Practice_. Choose to practice. Loki casts an image of Tony Stark down at the gardens, where Sam, Scott, and Clint practice. Clint shoots an arrow at it and it flies through.

"Loki!" he can imagine Clint yelling. The three men glare around, crouching, searching the area. Loki pulls away from the window.

He's supposed to use Gungnir on Bucky's mind tonight, before the Guardians arrive, but he doesn't want to wait that long. Why hold out on giving someone a fresh start?

He finds his brother speaking with the Warriors Three. Hugun notices him first, peering into the dark doorway where Loki lurks. The others follow suit.

"What do you want?" demands Fandral.

 _They'll always hate me_. Except, maybe not Sif, not entirely. Loki nods at Gungnir, clutched in Thor's hand. It doesn't quite seem to fit so well as Mjolnir. "I want to fix the Soldier's mind."

"I thought we were waiting until tonight for that," Sif says.

Loki shrugs. "Why wait?"

"Because Thor cannot break free from any of his meetings until then, and he will not entrust you with that ever again," Volstagg informs him.

 _Of course_. Loki crosses his arms, glad his illusion can't show the heat rushing to his cheeks. _How can you be good when everyone around you expects you to fail_?

"I could go with him and return it to you," offers another voice, from behind one of the pillars. Bruce steps out and offers a smile. "I don't think Loki will try anything with the Hulk guarding him."

"Probably not," Thor agrees.

"Are you sure it's wise?" Volstagg asks.

"Not entirely." Thor rolls his eyes and looks at Loki as if measuring him.

_What am I worth to you?_

_Far more than I've earned._

He hands Gungnir over to Bruce.

"A Hulk with Gungnir could be quite fun," Loki quips.

Bruce stares at the staff, gingerly holding it in front of him. "I think it's more likely I'd snap it in half."

"The magic's within is too powerful to let you do that," Loki snaps.

Bruce winces as if saying, _remember the last time you underestimated the Hulk?_

"Let's hope we don't find out."

Fandral draws a knife and slides it across his throat as a not-so-subtle threat as Loki and Bruce head out of the room.

"I'm glad you're doing this for Bucky," Bruce says to him as their footsteps echo. "I'd give anything if someone could fix me."

Loki shakes his head. "It doesn't work quite the same way. The Hulk was a part of you, always, somewhere in your genes, waiting for something to make it emerge. The Winter Soldier was embedded into Barnes's mind."

"Oh." Bruce nods, contemplating the information. "Sif told us about her idea."

Loki grits his teeth. His jaw throbs. "And why would she do that?"

"She wanted me to try to convince you to do it."

" _You?"_ Loki scoffs.

"Well, in all fairness," Bruce says with a shrug as he bangs Gungnir against a wall. "Oops. But in all fairness, I'm supposed to become the Hulk to help take down Thanos. If you can freeze a group of Chitauri or whatever other alien race is there, wouldn't that be useful?"

_If it's a choice between showing everyone what lies under your skin, or watching everyone die in Thanos's massacre, what will you choose?_

He can't fathom the idea of Thor dying, Mjolnir slipping from his grasp. Then he'd truly be alone. And letting Bruce die as the Hulk—the entirety of Asgard, which he ruled for several years, fall into despair when they realize all their hope and all their leaders and warriors have bled out…

He can almost hear Mother's voice again, like the time Loki was mad Odin paid him no attention and stole several books from Odin's chamber, books his father needed to govern properly. _Tell him the truth,_ she encouraged, cradling Loki's head. _It won't be that bad_.

_The right thing to do isn't always easy._

_We are all blind_ , Loki thinks, because all the while Mother and Odin kept their secret, for the sake of ease. But she still loved him. Odin, too, loved him.

"I'll think about it," Loki tells Bruce as they enter Bucky's chambers to see Natasha aiming a kick at Bucky's face.

"Should we come back later?" Loki quips.

"Just practicing," Natasha pants.

Bucky's eyes latch onto Gungnir. "If I hand this over to you, you won't use it for world domination, will you?" Bruce asks.

Loki shakes his head.

Natasha steps back towards the window, hoisting herself up on the sill. Mother always used to yell at Loki for doing that, afraid he would fall. He never would. And he doesn't think Natasha will either—not the spider woman.

"How does this work, exactly?" Bucky asks, worrying his lip.

"Magic," Loki replies, knowing the answer won't set him at ease. "It won't hurt you."

"If he turns into a man who thinks he's a dog, I will personally beat his skull in," Natasha says. "Or Bruce will."

Bruce shrugs and folds his arms.

"It won't," Loki insists. "But it doesn't make you into a good person either, you know."

"He already is one," Natasha says. The sunlight catches her hair as she leans forward.

"Well then." Loki rolls his eyes. "As long as he continues to choose to be kind and whatnot, he'll be fine." _That's the difference between you and me._

_It wasn't your choice._

"Do I need to do anything?" Bucky asks, paling. Shadows slip along the walls, crisscrossing over the vaulted ceiling. Shelves of books line the walls, books Loki read long ago.

"No, I'll do everything." And there's not a lot to it. Loki hesitates, and then reaches out and grips Bucky's shoulder. "Trust me."

It's a foolish thing to ask, but Bucky nods anyways.

 _Desperation_.

 _Norns, I cannot mess this up_.

He always messes up. He always lets people down. _Not now,_ damn _it, not now_. He actually cares about the man in front of him, the woman watching him, even the man/Hulk who tried to convince him to use the Casket.

Because, besides Thor and perhaps Sif, they don't see him as a monster.

Loki closes his eyes, breathes deep. A whiff of smoke filters in through the window. He envisions his mother, his father, all the lessons he got from them, from tutors. Gungnir hums against his palm, and this time it feels right—it's supposed to be there, he's supposed to be holding it, he's got to rescue a man chased and tortured and molded into a machine by human versions of Thanos.

 _If anything, you're an inspiration to me_.

Energy builds in the staff, flows from him. Loki cracks his eyes open. Bucky's eyes are still closed.

"I think that's it," Loki says with a shrug. He tosses the staff back to Bruce, who flinches but still manages to catch it.

"That's it?" gasps Bucky.

"How do you feel?" asks Natasha, hoping down from her window perch.

"I don't know. Not different. I mean, I felt the—whatever that was, some energy or—but—"

"It's not going to take away your guilt," Loki says. "Or change who you are. But whatever turns you into the Winter Solider—they won't be able to break your mind again. At least not in the same way, so try not to get captured by Thanos."

Natasha glares at him.

"I just did your boyfriend a favor," Loki reminds her.

"Thank you," Bucky tells him.

"We can test it out," Natasha says.

"I think we can stop you," Loki tells him. Maybe. If he was able to evade Thanos, maybe not. But it's not as if they have to worry.

"Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Dawn," Natasha says. Bucky cringes, as if expecting—but nothing happens. Natasha plows through the list, and he stays Bucky.

"Oh my God," Natasha says, her façade shattering. She throws her arms around Bucky, and he gasps, holding her.

"Good job," Bruce tells Loki, and he smiles.

Bucky clutches the back of Natasha's head as he kisses her without fear. They break apart and Natasha grabs Loki in a hug.

 _Norns_. He's stiff. He doesn't know what to do.

"Thank you," she breathes.

 _You're a monster,_ she said to him that first time they met, when he told her all the secrets he'd uncovered on her, all her dark past, threw it at her knowing he'd hurt her and wanting to.

 _I'm not a monster to you anymore,_ Loki realizes. His eyes sting. Natasha and Bucky—they're both looking at him like they care about him, and like they know he cares about them. And he does. He _does_ care.

* * *

"So hypothetically speaking," Wanda asks as she picks up a piece of bread. "If the Mind Gem was destroyed, would I lose my powers too?"

Loki frowns and takes a sip of wine. "Possibly. I'm not sure. I think it's unlikely, though."

Natasha bites into an apple. "So if Thanos gets control of Vision, could he control Wanda?"

"Probably not, but we don't know for sure," Loki says.

"Don't get caught," Wanda tells Vision. Bucky and Scott talk at the end of the table about some sort of plan. At least, Scott's drawing something on a napkin. A cloth napkin. Loki doesn't want to intervene. They're nice enough, the five of them, to let him eat with them. Maybe it's a _thank you_.

The other Avengers wouldn't eat with him, of course. Nor should they. Would he even eat with them?

He might. Loki glares down at his chalice.

Thor strides through the room and pauses, blinking as he takes in the sight of the six of them eating together. A small smile spreads over his face.

 _Stop_ , Loki thinks as he grabs some grapes.

"Everything okay?" Natasha asks.

"Presumably," Thor says, looking to Bucky for confirmation. Bucky nods.

"The Guardians may have returned," Thor announces. "Sif, the Warriors Three, and I will go to meet them."

"You don't need our help?" inquires Vision.

"No." Thor waves his hand. "Enjoy your dinner."

But Loki's stomach immediately sours. If the Guardians are back, that means they'll have to invade Thanos's realm soon enough. Fight him.

For the first time since he left to invade earth, he'll be back there.

Loki glances up at meets Bucky's gaze. He frowns as if he understands what Loki's thinking.

 _I don't want to face it_. He doesn't want Thor to see the place where Loki allied with Thanos, desperation and ambition powering him on, doesn't want Thor to meet Thanos.

He wonders if Bucky felt that way when he took Steve to find the other, already-dead winter soldiers. _Unlikely_. Bucky seems like a much kinder person than Loki is. Less proud. Gamora might understand. Or maybe not, because she has the Guardians and they clearly love her even if none of them would ever use such a sappy word.

 _You always wanted a family_ , Loki thinks. _And you found one. I'm still looking_. Because as much as Thor will insist he stay, Loki knows that, should they survive this battle, he cannot stay by Thor's side.

There's no other way to live besides facing death and Thanos.

"Are you okay?" Wanda asks, peering at him. Like she acres. Like she'd be willing to accept him.

Not everyone would, but she knows. She knows Ultron and the biting acid of revenge, spurring you on until you realize you have no skin, no muscle, no strength left. Vision might not know, but he still looks at Loki life he's a life worth protecting, worth siding with.

He nods. He doubts they believe him.

When Thor, Siff, and the Warriors Three arrive with the Guardians in tow, Loki spots Nebula, with her bald head and mechanical blue limbs. He calls her name.

She scowls at him. "So you made it out, too."

He nods. "I'm glad you left him."

"And we're going back now." Nebula rolls her eyes. "At least it's to kill him. That's the only reason I'm here."

"She's worse than Drax when it comes to getting jokes," complains Rocket.

"Seriously," agrees Peter Parker.

"Tony's going to skewer you," Natasha warns.

Nebula was always bitter when Loki knew her. Getting away from Thanos apparently hasn't helped. But can Nebula ever really get away from him? Loki was only with Thanos for a year. He can't even comprehend the horrors Nebula and Gamora would have endured.

Gamora offers a small smile and a shrug.

 _I'd rather be like her_ , Loki realizes. He doesn't want to keep bleeding, stay alive but crippled with poison.

Fury ignites, boiling inside Loki's stomach. _Thanos, you monster_.

_Is he more a monster than you?_

_He's choosing to be one. I choose not to be one anymore._

Brushing past Nebula, Loki taps Sif on the shoulder. "I'll do it," he blurts out, before he can retract it.

"Do what?" Sif asks.

"I'll use the casket."


	20. Chapter 20

"We need to split up," Thor says as he surveys the plans. Heimdall watches them as golden sunlight falls on them. The last morning Thor might ever be in Asgard.

"Why?" Tony asks.

"To create chaos," Thor glances to Loki.

"Doesn't Thanos thrive on that?"

"Yes, but we can use it against him," Gamora puts in.

"We hope," mutters Nebula. She's a strange one, and Thor can't tell whether he likes her or not.

"He still has those three infinity gems, and I don't think he'll be keeping them in the same place. They'll all be on that planet, but they won't be together,"" Gamora adds. "Nebula, Loki, and I have identified the most likely hiding places for the Power, Time, and Soul gems."

"He had the Power stone with him," Bucky says.

"It's entirely possible he'll keep one of them with him," Gamora confirms. "There are five other possible places."

"Here." Thor points to the red x's Clint insisted on marking the maps with. Loki stands in the corner, watching his brother with an impassive face. _You're scared,_ Thor realizes.

He may never admit it out loud, but he is, too.

"And I'll provide a distraction," Bruce says, wrapping his arms around himself.

"We all kind of will," Starlord adds. "I mean, we're gonna try to stay unnoticed, but like, let's be realistic, we're gonna be noticed."

"We also need to consider that when splitting up," T'Challa says. "Loki has this casket. Vision has the mind gem. Thor will have the infinity gauntlet—"

"I will?" Thor's brows crease. He's not sure he wants that kind of power.

"Of course," Loki snaps.

"I don't believe—"

"Who else can wield it?" Sif asks.

"Who else _should_?" counters Loki. "You're the king of Asgard, Thor. You already have Gungnir and Mjolnir. You _need_ to carry the gauntlet because no one else can."

"I agree," Steve says.

Thor nods.

"Here's what we were thinking for splitting up," Gamora says. "The Guardians and you, Nebula, will go here, to the lower levels of the moon. There's a cavern that might contain one of the gems. Thor, Loki, and your Warriors will head over to the east, where there's a canyon."

"And torture chambers," Nebula puts in.

"And those," Gamora amends. "You're most likely to encounter someone."

Loki nods, his face pale, sweat shining on his forehead.

"Tony, Rhodey, and you, Peter Parker, will go to one of the higher levels. It's kind of like a mountain place, but two of your can fly, so—"

"And if you think I'm letting you out of my sight, kid, I don't even want to know what kids are smoking these days," Tony adds.

"Right." Gamora rolls her eyes. "Bucky, Steve, and Sam, you'll head to the asteroids scattered nearby. I think it's unlikely anything's located there, but they will be patrolled. If you can take out the guards as quickly as possible—"

"Can do," Sam affirms.

"Wanda, Vision, and T'Challa will go here." She taps the map. "There's a lot of Chitauri in this low-lying area, which could mean that they're guarding something, although I'm not sure Thanos would trust the Chitauri with an infinity stone."

"I'm certain he wouldn't," comments Nebula.

"There are some jets stored there. If anything's there, it'd be on one of those. I wouldn't try to take out any more Chitauri than necessary."

"Okay," T'Challa agrees.

"Protect him," she adds, nodding to Vision. "Whatever you do, he can't fall into Thanos's hands."

"I will," Wanda vows. She clutches Vision's hand, and Thor glances to Sif.

"Bruce, you'll go closest to Thanos. Natasha, Clint, and Scott will follow. If he has one of the gems with him, Scott, you're our best hope."

" _Only_ hope," Scott corrects, smirking.

"Star Wars reference!" Peter Parker exclaims.

"I can calm Bruce down if it's necessary," Natasha explains.

"My arrows never miss," Clint says.

"You know she used a bow and arrow when we were on Nornheim, getting chased by the Kree?" Bucky asks.

"She did?" Clint's eyebrows fly up. "I'm flattered, Nat."

She rolls her eyes. Thor smiles.

"We should all try to meet up at this ridge," Gamora says loudly, pulling them all back on task. "As soon as we're able. And then if we have the gems, Thor, you and Vision can work together to take Thanos out."

Thor looks down at the Infinity Gauntlet, the Tessaract glowing and the Aether brewing inside it. Both of these stones almost cost the lives of those he cares about. _What do we do after?_

 _There's no time to wonder about that now_.

"Ready?" Natasha asks them all.

 _Not in the least_. Still, Thor leads them down towards the Bifrost. _Did you ever feel like this?_ he wonders about Father. When he was growing up, Thor never thought his father could be afraid.

But he was, wasn't he? Of Loki, of his lies, of losing?

Sif stands next to him in the Bifrost; Loki, behind him. _All your friends are with you._

_Don't be afraid._

The Bifrost drags them away.

* * *

"This place is creepy as hell," Sam pants. Shadows fall, but there's no real light sources. Stairs float between asteroids—or are they just rocky pieces of a dead, decaying moon?

"No kidding," Steve agrees. It's as if they're in a void—there's no air, but they can still breathe. "What is this place?"

"No place I ever wanted to come back to," Bucky grumbles. Dust crunches under their boots as they slip through the asteroids. His face pales.

"Your mind's healed," Steve reassures him. "You won't—"

"Other people are still being hurt," Bucky cuts him off, and Steve pauses. A scream, distant.

 _Who would live here?_ Steve wonders.

_Someone in love with death._

"We'll stop him," Steve vows.

Bucky grabs Steve's arm and halts. More crunching.

"I'll take whatever it is out," Sam tells them.

"Why you?" Bucky demands

"Because I can fly, idiot." Sam rolls his eyes.

Animal-like screeching reverberates like a siren.

"Shit," Steve and Bucky both say at once. Bucky still narrows his eyes when he hears his friend swear. "I _have_ grown up, Bucky," Steve adds before they race down a flight of floating stairs. Steve leaps onto a craggy surface—except it's steeper than it looked. Steve kicks, hauling himself up. He turns around and grabs Bucky's arm.

"So that one's dead," says Sam above them.

"What?" Steve peers beyond Sam to see a reptilian creature lying with a broken neck. A Chitauri. Damn if he didn't think he was done with those beasts after New York.

"The bad news is I think it alerted its friends."

Bucky aims his weapon as a horde of Chitauri, flying on the same vehicles as they used in New York, soar towards them.

 _That means Thanos has to know,_ Steve realizes, meeting Bucky's eyes. _Natasha. Thor. All of them._

 _We can't do anything except fight the ones in front of us._ He can't save them, not right now, and Steve can't stand it.

_You have to trust them._

Bucky and Natasha figured it out when they were here before. _Trust them_. He does. The Avengers are his friends, even Tony.

Steve races at the Chitauri and swings himself up onto their flying vehicle, kicking and slamming his shield across one's jaw. It falls into a void, and Steve remembers the other wars he's fought, not just in New York, but long ago in Europe.

 _What are you getting from working for a monster like Thanos?_ He remembers thinking the same thought about Nazis working for Hitler, Hydra agents working for Red Skull. But he has to push it aside like he always does, because they're trying to kill and maim and destroy and he can't hesitate. _Be brave, always brave._

Steve throws the last Chitauri down into the void. Black blood stains his shield.

* * *

Screams echo. Whimpers cut into his spine. Loki swallows as he leads Thor and the Warriors Three through the canyon.

"This place is terrifying," Fandral comments.

"Keep quiet," hisses Sif.

"It is," Loki agrees, sidestepping to avoid kicking a loose rock. He can feel their gazes on him and he doesn't like it. They know he was kept here after he fell. Do they think he deserved it, for betraying Thor and getting him banished, for letting the Frost Giants in, for _being_ a Jotun?

_Did you?_

Loki swallows. He tries to push the screams from his mind and still they linger.

_If only I could fix my mind like I fixed Bucky's._

Thor sucks in his breath and flattens himself against the wall, under an outcropping. His arm slings out to push Loki back too. Mjolnir almost crushes Loki's chest.

"I'm perfectly capable of hiding myself," Loki wheezes.

Thor shakes his head, the Gauntlet on the hand clutching Gungnir and Mjolnir in his other arm. "Are you all right here?"

"Of course." Loki's face flames and he hates it. He doesn't want their pity, or their hatred, or their apathy. He doesn't know what he wants from Thor, from any of them. He doesn't know what he wants from himself.

 _To destroy Thanos_.

Thor's eyes smolder as if he knows Loki's not really fine, as if he knows the screams are still chopping at his skull. "I will kill him."

"For what? For hurting me? You did enough of that yourself." He doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out because Loki's desperate to push Thor away. He can't let their sticky pity near him.

Hogun groans.

"Thor's just—" tries Volstagg.

 _Yes, Thor,_ Loki wants to say. _I screamed. I screamed because I wanted it to stop, because I had no hope. I gave in because Thanos offered it to me._

_And it was all a lie._

_He knew all along._ "Thanos played me from the beginning," Loki says.

"What?"

"He never intended for me to rule earth." All those people being tortured—they're tools, just like Loki was a tool, only Loki was desperate for someone to tell him he was worth something. He swallowed it from the devil himself, the father of lies, a monstrous Titan who knew Odin could stop him and saw to it that Loki took care of him.

Loki's hands shake. _What did I do?_

Thor. He focuses on his brother.

"If you need to stay here," Volstagg says, peering at him with _oh, Norns,_ concern. "I'll stay with you."

He shakes his head. "We have to defeat Thanos."

"He won't win," Thor promises him, grasping Loki behind his neck like he used to do when reassuring Loki after they tried to hide their mischief from their parents, and Loki believes him.

Thanos took all their identities. Nebula's, Gamora's, Loki's. He made them into machines, assassins, monsters. And Loki let him. Gamora at least fought back.

 _I'm fighting back now._ He's not Thanos's instrument to be played. Not anymore.

A roar echoes. _Bruce_.

Footsteps pound. Thor tenses, holding both of his weapons aloft.

And still the screams bleed from the torture chambers.

 _If there's an Infinity Stone here, it'd be there,_ Loki knows.

The Chitauri burst out of the canyon wall, streaming down the steps, and Loki bursts from their hiding place.

"What are you doing?" Sif shrieks.

The Casket's out; it's in his hands and power's surging from him, freezing the metal-clad beings that cut him, whipped him, starved him without a second thought. They won't die, but they can't fight.

"We need to look in the chambers," Loki says as he turns back to his brother. He knows the blue's still fading from his skin, the red from his eyes. _This is what I am._ "We can free them, too. They might help."

Thor still stares, and Loki glances down to make sure pale flesh, soft and warm, covers his body. It does. "Do you hate me?" he asks, intending for a bitter tone. Instead, his voice trembles.

Thor shakes his head " _Thank_ you, Loki."

* * *

"Someone's been caught," Wanda hisses. "Or triggered some sort of alarm."

"What makes you think that?" T'Challa asks as they crouch behind a boulder, huge and misshapen to look like a skull. Wanda squeezes her eyes shut.

"She has to be right," Vision breathes. "They're all forming, can't you see? They're marching."

"Does it seem like they're all coming from a particular place?" Wanda asks.

"Not that I can see," Vision answers apologetically.

Grit digs into her knees. _What if we fail?_

_What if we all fail?_

"They look like they're heading west," Vision reports.

"Which is where Steve, Bucky, and Sam are," T'Challa points out grimly. "According to Gamora's map."

Fear laces itself through Wanda's limbs. "T'Challa, you look for the Infinity Stone. Vision, you and I have to—"

"Stop them," Vision echoes. "I know."

"I will look," T'Challa syas. "And then I'll come and help."

 _If we're still alive._ Red glows from her hands. She leans back against the rough stone, hair catching. Gulping in air, she readies herself. She thinks of Piero, and if he knew he was going to die.

_What made you decide it was worth it?_

Vision looks at her, his eyes swimming with concern. _I love you_.

He holds out his hand and pries her up. Wanda nods at T'Challa, and then she and Vision both run. He lets go of her hand and floats overhead. Red light flashes from her hands as she throws rocks and Chitauri around. She glances up to see Vision still there, still there for now.

A scaly arm wraps around her neck. Red magic slashes out, but a group of Chitauri swarm her and Wanda screams. One claws at her leg; another takes a fistful of her hair.

They're blasted away, and Vision's there, and then they leaping on him and her power channels through her with a viciousness she's never felt before,a nd he's screaming at her to _go, go, get out of here._

"Come back with—"

"I'm not allowed to leave you, remember?" she shouts.

"They'll take me to him! Meet—"

A Chitauri lunges at Wanda with a rusted blade. A black figure leaps onto the blade, shattering it and twisting the Chitauri's neck. Wanda gasps.

"Let's go!" T'Challa grabs her and they run.

 _Stay alive,_ Wanda prays, her heart thudding. _He's not gone yet. She can feel it._

She won't let Thanos take him.

* * *

"Where is everybody?" Tony croaks out as he, Rhodey, and Peter Parker arrive at their meeting place empty handed.

"You're back!" shouts Drax, emerging from behind a rock pillar.

"Did you find anything?" Rhodey pants.

"'Cause we didn't," Peter adds.

"No," says Nebula, emerging with a scowl. Gamora pinches her eyebrows.

"Hey!" Sam flies over as Steve and Bucky skid down into the crevice. "We almost got—Thanos has to know by now that we're here; the Chitauri—"

"Nothing for you either?" Peter Quill shouts.

"Um, no," Steve answers.

"Thanos has them all with him, doesn't he," Tony states, cold filling his stomach.

"We don't know that yet," says Gamora.

"Pretty sure the odds aren't in our favor."

"Ooh, _Hunger Games_ ," Peter says appreciatively.

"What's that?" asks Rocket.

A roar shakes the moon. Rocks tumble down and dust filters through the atmosphere.

"Bruce and Nat," Bucky says.

"And Clint and Scott," snaps Tony.

"Really? You have to be petty now?" growls Rhodey into Tony's ear.

"I'm always petty."

Rhodey shrugs. "Can't argue with that."

"We have to help them—if Thanos does have the Infinity Stones—" Bucky starts.

"And we will," Steve cuts in.

Footsteps rush nearby. Tony watches as Thor and Sif approach.

"What happened to Loki?" Bucky demands. _God, are they friends now, Bucky and Loki?_

"Working on something else. No Infinity Stone," Thor reports. "The Warriors Three are helping him—we—"

"Thanos definitely has them all, then," Gamora concludes. She wrings her hands.

"It was always the most likely scenario, sister," Nebula states.

"We can still do this," Thor says, gazing around. "It's just—we might have to sacrifice more than we'd hoped. Or wanted. But for the sake of—"

"The entire universe," Steve supplies.

"Yes, that. We need to. We're the only ones who can."

"Why do I always wind up in these stupid sacrificial positions?" grumbles Rocket.

"I am Groot," sighs the tree.

Another crash, and T'Challa and Wanda tumble into the area. Wanda's face is shell-shocked: pale and streaked with tears.

_He has Vision._

_We might actually lose,_ Tony realizes.


	21. Chapter 21

The Hulk roars, and Thanos readies the purple orb. Clint fires off arrow after arrow.

Scott shakes his head, his face ghastly pale and covered in sweat. "He'll kill him before he even—"

"Not just that; he has them all!" Natasha can't stand it. "He has all of the gems; everybody's wasting their time—" The air's so still. It feels like wind should be howling, the fabric of this place should be pulling apart because everything's about to crumple, cave in and sit as an ash heap, and offering to Death itself, something that could not care less about any offerings or anything, not even the lives it willingly gobbles up. _What kind of being loves nothing?_

"You need to distract Bruce," Scott pants, clutching her shoulder. "Both of you—but Natasha—"

"If I get close I can do it."

"You'll die!" Clint shouts over his shoulder. "I can—"

"We always work together," Natasha points out. "What are you planning, Scott?"

"What, you don't trust me?" He smirks.

"I don't trust anybody." _But I trust you. And Clint, and Bucky and Steve and Tony. All of you._

_You're my friends._

"Can I get a ride?" Scott asks Clint, nodding at his arrows.

 _Screw this_. Natasha charges forward, leaping over fallen rocks and crumpled mortar. "Bruce!" she calls.

A Chitauri shot lands in her shoulder, and Natasha stumbles. She pushes herself on, lungs screaming and burning. Arrows fly nearby—Clint's giving her cover—

"Bruce. Come on," Natasha wheezes, staggering closer. Her arm throbs; she feels woozy. _Am I bleeding?_

He turns to her, growling. In the distance, Natasha sees Thanos, that purple monster. He's watching with interest, like their pigs he's about to slaughter. Natasha pushes him from her mind as she reaches out towards the Hulk.

 _You're always Bruce_. But she can't have Bruce now. Damn pragmatism. Damn survival instincts.

An arrow shoots into Bruce's shoulder. The Hulk howls, yanking it out and crumpling it.

 _Well, Scott, you better have been off it by then_.

"Get the purple guy," Natasha tells Bruce. _Scott, get the gems._ Though how he can—

Bruce lunges upwards, clawing and pulling his way up to the place where Thanos sits. The Titan climbs off his chair, eyes solemn, but a deranged grin sliding over his face as his fingers loosen—

"Not so fast, you giant, ugly grape!"

Bruce roars again, but beside him Scott surges into Giant-Man. Snarling, the Hulk throws himself at Thanos, pummeling, and the purple gem sails through the air. Scott tosses it to her.

"Don't throw it, you imbecile!" Clint screams from behind her.

 _Don't touch it_! Natasha reminds herself, whipping out one of the containers Gamora had given them. _One down_.

A boulder crashes down. Natasha barely dives out of the way as Scott pries what looks to be another stone—

And there are no more arrows.

" _Clint!"_

* * *

 

"Come on, man," Scott pants, clutching the last two gems as he slides down towards Clint. A boulder rests on his legs, and Clint's face is twisted in pain. "Hold on."

"Where's—"

"Bruce is still fighting—he got the last gems, really—"

Clint moans.

"No, don't you do that!" Scott shouts, dropping down next to Clint. "Stay with me, man. You gotta stay with me. For Laura, for Lila and Cooper and Nathaniel. We both gotta make it back to our kids—I promised Cassie—"

"Get out of here, then," Clint wheezes. "I'm not gonna be able to walk—"

"I don't care. I can't just leave you—Laura would kill me, okay?" Scott tries desperately to keep Clint alert, keep his eyes focused.

If he wants any chance of moving this blasted boulder, he'll have to blow himself up to giant size.

And if he does that, Thanos will see and obliterate him. And probably Clint.

_There aren't other options._

Scott steps back.

"What are you doing?" gasps Clint. "Don't—"

A flash of red, white and blue, black, and silver. Steve, Natasha, and Bucky.

"You're helping me?" Clint, face smeared with dirt and dried blood, gapes up at Bucky.

Bucky frowns as if to say of course.

"No one ever told me you Avengers were so slow," complains Scott, but he's so happy to see them he could kiss them.

"You're an Avenger too," Natasha tells him, rolling her eyes as she glances at Clint. Her lips tremble.

"I'm not dying," Clint rasps.

"Good. I don't have to kill you then."

Scott kneels to help shift the boulder. Clint lets out a gasp of pain. His legs are both bent in unnatural lines. Scott scrambles and grabs his shoulders.

"Here." Natasha grabs Clint under his knees. Clint's face screws up in agony.

"We'll give you cover," Bucky tells them.

Natasha nods.

Scott and Natasha race through the broken terrain, searching for better cover. Flashes of blue light—shots of some kind—fly around them. Natasha grits her teeth as if she's been hit, but Scott doesn't have time to stop—can't ask questions—they'll die if he wastes his breath on a question—

"Shit!" Scott finally gasps as they lower Clint to the ground below what looks like a large rocky outcropping.

"Stay with him," Natasha orders. " _Please_."

"I will," Scott promises as she looks down at Clint's face. Her eyes looks like they could cry, but there are no tears. "You?"

"I'm going back to help Bucky and Steve," Natasha says.

"They aren't behind us?"

She shakes her head.

* * *

 

"Too much fire," gasps Steve. "Sam can't fly over in this."

"We'll make it." Bucky ducks behind a rock, gravel digging into his side, his hands. Expertly, he picks off a line of Chitauri firing at the Guardians, at Thor.

"Good shot," Steve says.

Bucky swallows. _The Winter Soldier's always been a part of you._

_This is different. War, not murder._

_What's war except murder for ideological causes?_

This time, though, Bucky has a choice. And whether it's right or wrong, he doesn't know, but he's choosing to save his friends, save the universe. He'll deal with the consequences of killing these Chitauri later.

"Did we get the gems?"

"Think so!" Steve says. _Hope so_ is what he means.

"If we did this can't last much longer!" They need to move further away from Thanos. If they can, because they can't make Thor wait to use the Gauntlet. Not with so many lives at stake.

What do theirs even matter?

Steve meets Bucky's eyes, and Bucky knows he's thought the same thing.

 _We're probably going to die here_.

"It's okay," Steve pants.

Bucky thinks of Natasha, his heart pounding and blood rushing through him. He doesn't want to leave her alone.

 _She'd be okay._ He clings to that thought.

But he'd rather be a part of that _okay_.

A light flashes above them. Bucky's head snaps back.

_Stark._

"Tony," Steve chokes out, dust flying through the air.

"Didn't think I was going to leave you here to die, did you? Sam's busy," Tony adds as he lands. "Suit's taken a few shots that I'll expect you both to pay to repair."

 _You're helping me too_? Bucky can't understand it. _Don't you hate me?_

 _You care about Steve more,_ Bucky realizes. _Finally_.

"We can't fly out," Steve pants. "You'll get shot down."

"And you'll both get hit," Tony agrees. "Good thing the Guardians are giving the Chitauri another distraction."

"What?" Bucky asks.

"They're charging up there to fight them."

"That's suicidal."

"Eh, Gamora knows what she's doing." Tony shrugs.

 _They're risking their lives for us, and they barely know us_. Bucky swallows.

"We've got to—" Steve starts, but then a flash of light cuts him off. He clutches his side, right below his heart, and doubles over. "I'm all right."

"Uh, no you're not," Tony stammers, grabbing one of Steve's shoulders as Bucky grabs the other. Blood seeps through, and Steve meets Bucky's eyes. So many questions stir, but he can't manage to speak.

"Hold on," Bucky pleads, lowering him to the ground. Everything feels cold—the air, his blood, his clothes, the ground. He presses against the wound, but the blood seeps through, jarringly warm. _No. No no no no no. Please._

Steve's gasping already, and Bucky can't—he can't let his friend die. Not now. Not this way. There's an answer—there has to be—why does his brain feel like cobwebs occlude any rational thought?

"We need to get him to Thor, or Loki," Bucky ekes out, meeting Tony's eyes. "They're—"

Tony nods, his face ashen. "Stay with me, Steve," he orders, voice trembling and hand pressing, pressing against the wound, next to Bucky's. "You better freaking stay with me, man _. Hold on. Dammit!"_ Tears are streaming down his face already.

 _It's not over yet._ Steve's breath gurgles, but it's there, and it's pumping life into Bucky as well. "We've got to take a chance. If I—you don't have to, but we've got to try—"

"We'll both try." Tony grabs the jacket Bucky's already yanked off and stuffs it into the wound. Steve moans. "Oh my God, you actually feel pain?"

Trying to keep things light. Steve almost smiles, and Bucky shakes his head. "Let's do this." He grabs Steve's knees, Tony his shoulders, and they push through the battle together, shots whizzing around them, trying to grab either of them, take them down, but none of it matters. Both only focus on saving their friend.

As shots steam towards them, Bucky grabs Steve's shield with one arm and blocks them.

* * *

 

Death's in his hand, and everyone's expecting him to use it. The Warriors Three, his lifelong friends, the woman who loves him and whom he loves. His brother, his friends who've saved his life and whose lives he's saved so many times.

With one final blow, Thanos sends the Hulk reeling. Bruce lands on his neck and Natasha cries out.

"Just use the power stone," shouts Loki. "The purple one. Or the Aether; you're more familiar with that. Or the Tessaract. Pick one!"

The spider kid hobbles over, face bruised and eyes terrified. Blood streams from a gash over Sif's eyes. T'Challa and Gamora help Starlord stagger, his leg bent at a nauseating angle.

"Thor Odinson." Thanos's voice echoes, and it seems like everything else draws to a standstill. Dread hovers in the air.

"You got something to say?" hollers Drax. "So do we!"

"We do?" pants T'Challa.

"You killed my family! You killed her family!" He points to Gamora. "And hers." _Nebula_ , who appears atop an overhang, covered in grime. "You tortured them, and him." _Loki_ , whose face pales. "You—"

"Why do you try to avoid Death?" Thanos asks, directing his eyes to Thor. His gaze cuts to Thor's spine. "It comes for everyone, even Asgardians."

"Because life's funner?" gasps Starlord.

"Everything great that you've built—your Earth, your Asgard—it'll all become dust eventually. Why do you even want to prolong something that won't last?"

Everyone looks to Thor. Should he have an answer? Because he doesn't.

"Because—it's—" Thor struggles. " _Good_. It's good."

"Your humans are slaughtering each other daily. Your Asgardians are in turmoil because their king is dead—thanks to the Frost Giant he tried to show mercy to."

Loki flinches.

"Shut up," Thor orders. "You will never speak about my brother—"

"He isn't—"

"And I'm not your daughter!" Gamora yells.

"I never was," Nebula agrees.

"Life is good," Thor says, anger surging through him, familiar anger that boils and churns. "People—humans, Asgardians, Jotuns—whatever you are, Gamora, Nebula—they're good."

"Which is why you seek out special powers to protect yourselves," Thanos scoffs. He smirks at Wanda, who appears with red glowing in her eyes and in her hands.

"A desire for vengeance and death brought me to that," Wanda says. "And now I use it for good. Like you never will."

"Yeah, someone once told me that with great power comes great responsibility," chimes in the spider kid.

"You don't have any Infinity Gems," Thor informs him. "You surrender now, or I will destroy you."

"Why are we giving me that chance?" grunts Drax.

Thanos smiles, a leering grin. "I do."

_Vision._

_That wasn't part of the plan_. Thor glances to Wanda, who watches in anguish as Thanos grabs the man—cyborg?— _man_ away from the Chitauri dragging him. His hand descends to Vision's skull.

"No!" screams Wanda.

"I'm warning you, Thanos," Thor shouts, heart in his throat.

"He exists because you are only capable of creating monsters."

"Except him?" snaps Sif.

"Your hawk's legs are crushed. Your captain's bleeding out."

_Steve. No._

Loki meets Thor's eyes, panic screeching. Sam stumbles backwards and flies off. _Thanks a lot_. But Thor doesn't blame him. He needs to find Steve.

"None of you know how to create anything good. You're all—"

"We screw up a lot, yeah," agrees Rhodey. "But we try damn hard, and that's where you're wrong. Trying is good. We get happiness and we get love and we get each other, sometimes for too short a time, but we get it anyways. We try."

Wanda's lips move as if she's repeating part of what Rhodey said.

 _I can't destroy Thanos without destroying Vision as well,_ Thor realizes.

"You're all worth nothing alive, and you're beautiful dead," Thanos says.

Wanda meets Thor's eyes and shakes her head. And she takes off running, charging directly towards Thanos. A nasty smile spreads over his lips— _he'll use the Mind Stone to kill her, kill them both_ —

Thor grabs the Power Stone but Thanos is already ripping at Visions' head—and then he's not, because Mjolnir flies towards him and bashes Thanos in the head, and Thor didn't throw it but he doesn't have time to think about it. He unleashes the Power Stone.

Purple glows. A flash of red. Thor flies backwards. His head strikes something hard, and then there's blackness.


	22. Chapter 22

The flash of violet eclipses the landscape. Natasha can't feel anything, see anything.

And then there's grit digging into her cheek. It prickles.

I'm not dead.

Prying herself off the ground, Natasha listens. Silence. Her heart pounds.

"What the hell was that?" a voice yells.

Tony.

"Hey!" she screams, scrambling towards the voice. "I'm—" Holy shit. Steve.

His face is ashen. Natasha gasps.

"We need to get Loki, or Thor, with that staff," pants Bucky when he sees her, his face screwed up in pain. "Please, Nat."

She nods and dashes back off. What if they're dead?

"Natasha!" gasps Scott as he appears. "Clint's okay, just still in a ton of pain. I—are they—is it—"

She can't speak. Tears steal her voice. Scott rushes beside her as they look for their friends.

"Hey, you're alive," comes a voice. Sam. Covered in dust, he lands beside them, "Where's Steve?"

"Back there," Natasha manages.

Sam takes off again without a word, and Natasha presses on.

A crater, and then shards of rock float by, as if an explosion decimated the rotting moon. Natasha skids to a stop.

"Nat?"

Scott and Natasha whirl around to see Bruce, completely naked, rising from one end of the crater. He rubs his head as if dazed.

You're alive.

You made it.

Natasha runs towards him. "You—"

"Is anyone hurt?"

"Clint and Steve for sure—you need to—"

"Find them," Bruce finishes. "Screw dignity." And he takes off, and then Natasha hears the best sound she's ever heard in her entire life.

Laughing.

Familiar laughs. Thor's rumble, Rhodey's gentle cackle. Scott skitters to the edge of the crater and lets out a whoop. "You're all alive!"

They're all gathered on an outcropping below them. Starlord waves at her.

And Wanda and Vision are nearby on a rock, her red magic weaving what looks like red glass around them. It vanishes as Wanda pries herself up. Even from far away, Natasha can tell he's gaping at her.

Did her magic save him or something? Natasha wonders.

"Steve and Clint?" hollers Thor. He grabs his hammer and swings it, rising to meet them.

"Can your staff heal?" Natasha manages. "Bodies as well as minds?"

"We can get them to Healers," Thor says. "Heimdall! Take all of us!"

Light floods everything, and the moon vanishes before her eyes.

Loki watches as the Healers work on Steve, on Clint. They're all gathered together, letting the warmth of the fire wash over them.

"We actually did it," Peter Parker says gleefully.

"Don't get too cocky, kid," Tony warns.

Bucky hasn't taken his eyes off Steve. His hand clutches Natasha's.

Loki wanders away from the main group, towards Wanda and Vision. The man—cyborg, but a human at heart—still looks shocked.

I once believed what Thanos believed. At least he parroted it, when he came to earth. He believed being human was weak, that there was no joy. Only he didn't realize Thanos respected Asgardian lives little more than human ones. Likely no more than human lives.

Wanda offers him a small smile. He returns it and hunkers down next to them. "How're you feeling?"

"I can't believe I'm alive, and that I'm so relieved to be alive," Vision muses.

"I thought we were both dead," agrees Wanda. "It's like a dream."

"Your magic's pretty powerful. It protected you from the other Infinity Stones," Loki tells her.

She flushes. "Apparently so."

"I'm impressed."

"Really?" She grins. "I didn't know—I never thought I was capable of—I never thought I would be able to do that."

"Well, you were."

"I just didn't want Vision to die. And if he died, I didn't want him to die alone." Wanda's eyes water.

Love. It's a powerful force. Loki manages to nod.

A hand descends on his shoulder. Thor. He offers Loki a small smile.

"We're all still alive," Loki quips.

"Trust me, no one's more surprised than me." Thor shakes his head. Loki follows him away from Wanda and Vision.

They're all alive because of you, Loki thinks as he looks at Thor.

He's proud of his brother, and he wants Thor to know that even if he doesn't quite know how to say it, even if stubborn pride still clings to him, drags the words away from his tongue. "You—acted like a king today," he manages. Terrified, and fighting anyways. "Father would have been proud."

"Of both of us," Thor says, meeting Loki's gaze. "Don't' deny it. You managed to throw Mjolnir."

Loki clenches his fists, unclenches. He doesn't know how, or why. "I didn't want you to die for once."

Thor rolls his eyes. "Everything's a joke to you." But there's no animosity in it. "You were worthy."

"Maybe the old hammer's just getting senile."

"Or maybe you're worthy, and you just had to believe it."

Loki can't speak. He shrugs and glances at the floor.

Steve lets out a gasp. Loki whirls around, and Bucky's holding him.

"I'm alive?" Steve croaks out.

"Honestly, they are so slow," Loki complains. Thor rolls his eyes.

"You're alive," Natasha tells him.

"I'm… glad… good." Steve sounds surprised that he's glad to be alive. Loki knows what that feels like. Not even perfect men are unbroken.

"You need to rest," Fandral tells him.

"You scared the hell out of me," Bucky says.

You get a new chance, Steve, Loki thinks. A new chance to have a friendship with Bucky, with Natasha and even with Tony. It's a gift, and he has that chance with Thor.

"Where will you go from here?" Thor asks him. Resigned. He knows Loki can't stay here, won't endanger his reign. But he still wants him to, and Loki knows it.

Because he trusts Thor. Finally. It's a strange feeling, to trust.

"I always have a plan," Loki chokes out.

"Well, what are all your plans now that you've saved the world and all?" Fury asks as he leans back in his chair in Wakanda. "And where's the other supervillian? And those aliens?"

Natasha glances around the room they've gathered in. All alive. Clint with his legs healed by those healing stones, reunited with his children. Steve still alive, still breathing, even if the gray pallor hasn't entirely left his face.

"They went off together," Thor answers. He's here for a short time, only a few hours. Sif stayed back in Asgard. "To the far reaches of the galaxy."

"Loki went off with those Guardians?" Fury asks. "Does that mean we can expect him any time soon?"

"Loki helped save us," Natasha put in. "Multiple times."

"I don't think so," Thor says.

"Well, he's the person to ask," Rhodey says, jerking his thumb towards T'Challa. "I saw you and Gamora kissing. She's not going to stop by at some point?"

"Of course not," T'Challa lies. Natasha smirks. Fury likely doesn't believe it either, but he doesn't have to.

"The time has come for me to rule Asgard," Thor says. "My father is dead. My brother is—not able to rule."

Although Natasha's pretty sure that Thor will be calling Loki for policy questions. Maybe. Loki's definitely the better politician of the two.

"But you should know that you'll always have an ally in Asgard. Any more serious problems, and we'll return. Truly. Heimdall will be updating me about all of you daily, and I plan to visit."

"Do we get to visit for like a wedding or something?" Tony questions.

"Tony!" groans Clint.

"It's a legit question."

"Maybe. If Sif and I do wed, you'll all be invited, of course."

"Are you going back to space, Banner?" Fury asks.

Bruce shakes his head. Last night, he told Natasha that he planned to join Jane Foster and Eric Selvig in research, possibly under another identity that won't last very long. "You'll be able to reach me," he assured her.

"I'm off to see Cassie," says Scott. "If there's another galactic crisis, though, you know, I'll be there."

"He's off to be grounded," Tony announces, jerking his thumb at Peter. Natasha snorts as the teen shrugs.

"For all of you not looking for a vacation, we might need some help worming out that Secretary of State," Fury adds.

"Really?" asks Peter with interest.

"No," Wanda and Rhodey both tell the kid.

"How about you, Rogers?" asks Fury.

"Still a wanted fugitive, right?" Steve asks with a weak smile. Bucky frowns, and Natasha recognizes the guilt still etched in his face. He considers you worth it.

"Not in Wakanda," T'Challa says. Tony sets his jaw and stares at the floor.

We're always going to be guilty, aren't we? Natasha wonders. Life's more about learning to overcome it, not let it define all of who they are, than erasing it. Even with Bucky no longer at risk of turning into the Winter Soldier at the mention of a few Russian words, the words still alarm him, and the compunction and sorrow over what he did will never leave him, just like it will never leave Natasha or Bruce or Tony.

"If there's trouble, I'll show up," Steve says. "You know me."

Bucky nods at Steve.

"We'll see if we can change that 'wanted fugitive' status," Wanda says darkly.

"I just want some time to—to focus on friends, on my relationships with them," Steve says. "I don't think I appreciated it as much as I should have, not before."

"Neither did I," Tony says, offering Steve a small smile—brief, but it's there. Natasha and Bucky exchange a look.

"I've been thinking," T'Challa says as they log off the call with Fury. "You're quite good with that vibranium shield."

"Me?" asks Bucky, eyes wide.

"Maybe we can work on creating another arm from it, or a shield for yourself, or—"

"I'm still not a hero," Bucky says quickly.

"If you're not, what am I?" Natasha asks.

"You kind of are," Tony acquiesces. Bucky's eyebrows shoot up.

"Are you actually admitting you might have been wrong?" Steve asks.

"Don't get cocky," Tony retorts. "All I'm saying is… I'm not gonna get the dead back." He holds out his hand, and Bucky shakes it. Natasha's eyes blur.

A broken peace, but a peace nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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